Letting It Come

Just doodling a few ideas.  Thoughts randomly flitting around inside my head and heart.  Changes coming, I feel it, new thoughts and ideas.  Perhaps even a few old ones, resurrected in a different form?

I’m being drawn for some reason – toward the old and the simple and the plain and the quietness of white and off-white and tea dyed luxuries and hanging vintage. Soft pinks and blues and aquas – all either stained or muted with off white

The shelves are filled to the brim with several communities of dolls.  Sitting here smiling at me – thanking me for their stories. 

And so I think that whatever is coming must hang on the wall – or from a dowel – or on a hanger of sorts – for there is no more room in the cubbies nor in the shelter of shelves.

Hmmm will these thoughts become something?  Or even some things?  Who knows – but for now I’ll just let them gather slowly…

"I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke.  Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man?" - Zhuangzi

"Flora Fernley"

When Miss Fernley moved from ‘the estate’ to the township of Lickety-Split she soon realized that to ‘be anybody’ in the town you had to participate in the ‘garden club’.  Her first visit to this group of dedicated gardeners enlightened her considerably.

She was told that to be a member of the Lickety-Split Garden Club you must ‘tend your own garden’.  Heaven forbid!!  In fact one of the ladies actually told her how much fun she would have ‘getting her hands dirty’.  Did she not know that Miss Fernley had never had dirty hands in her life and she certainly did not intend to start now?  

 Never one to give up easily, Miss Fernley came up with an idea. She visited a small town several miles away and secretly employed some professional gardeners .  To get around anyone seeing them – she bought miners hats – those kind with the little lights on top.  Now – once every two weeks or so, at midnight, they creep into her back yard (she certainly doesn’t want to draw attention) turn on their lanterns and get to work.  Like a busy swarm of fireflies they work from midnight to 4 am.  Miss Fernley will continue to bring her illicit posies to each meeting in the hope that perhaps one day she'll win an award.

"The earth laughs in flowers." - Ralph Waldo Emerson