I’m sitting in my comfy blue chair, sipping some chai and trying to recall my last blog post. I’m consistent in my inconsistency and I’m okay with that.
Winter went by quickly. Well, the months from December to March went by quickly, although I wouldn’t have called the season winter. I never experienced the anxiety of having to drive to work in ice and snow. I think we had one dusting of snow, and that melted within a few hours. I’m not a fan of winter, but I do kind of feel gypped.
Now my butterfly & bee garden is blooming with bachelor buttons and some little red flower I can’t identify. I haven’t seen any bees or butterflies but there are quite a few ladybugs. I have seen wasps, but not in the garden. One was in a bird feeder I was going to fill. I thought the wasp was dead, a casualty of the non-winter season, but as I turned the feeder over to shake him out, he began to move. Nope… that birdfeeder went into the large trashcan. It was old and needed to be replaced anyway. The next day as I put some trash into the trash can, the wasp flew out.
I signed up for an art workshop that begins in a week. I’m looking forward to it and learning new techniques to play with. It’s funny how I never feel like I’ve become an artist. I’m in constant flux. I think I like one aspect and follow it to find it doesn’t quite fit right, so I try a different path. There are always different paths to explore.
That kind of leads to the book I’ve been reading, The Wander Society by Keri Smith. I had begun reading Walt Whitman a few weeks before I learned about her recent book and picked it up at lunch one day. The timing was impeccable. I haven’t devoured it, as I normally do her books. This one feels like touching a raw nerve. I can only handle so much at a time before I feel overwhelmed and exposed.
Then I go in the backyard and count the ladybugs on the bachelor buttons.
