Wherefore art thou, O Spring?

February is playing tricks on me.

This morning, I could have sworn spring arrived.  When I left for another day at the office, it was 56 degrees outside, early in the a.m.

Last night, we endured rain instead of snow, lightning made an electrifying appearance and thunder roared all around us like a ravenous lion.  As a child, I remember cheering boisterously at school when it thundered this time of the year because our teacher informed us those rumbling booms ushered in spring.

Hooray!  My mind applauded this morning at the mere thought of spring time making its grand appearance.  So convinced about the arrival of the season, I wanted to recite the old childhood rhyme: “Spring has sprung, the grass is riz.  I wonder where the posies is.”

Matter of fact, my brain persuaded me that I smelled earthworms, something I always associate with that “after the rain” aroma of the spring season, when I left my house.

Alas, the temperature dropped all day – it’s now 28 degrees – and the atmosphere’s still gloomy and glum while a cold wintry-like wind bites into me.  This morning, I felt certain I would discover little harbingers of spring breaking the soil’s surface around my house, but reality reveals not one sign of our perky crocuses yet.

I’m suffering from color deprivation here! I need “sunshine, lollipops and rainbows!”  I’m tired of the cheerless, dingy landscape outside my window.  I need the hope and happiness of which the spring season reminds us.  Like the late minister Virgil A. Kraft once said, “Spring shows what God can do with a drab and dirty world.” Can I get an “Amen” to that?

I desperately desire to behold perfectly pert purple crocuses, sunshiny yellow yawning daffodils and robust red rambunctious tulips popping up in my front yard.  I yearn to yield to the fabulous fragrance of a profusion of prolific pink hyacinths,  lavishly lovely lavender lilacs and diminutive dainty delights of white nestled in lily of the valley greenery.

I need spring!  I need warmth.  I need blue skies and sunshine.  I need green grass and an array of colorful flowers.  I need budding and blossoming trees.  Heck, let’s throw in some rainbows too!

Author Paul Fleischman wrote in his book,  Seedfolks: “You can’t see Canada across Lake Erie, but you know it’s there.  It’s the same with spring.  You have to have faith, especially in Cleveland.”

Fleischman’s right and not just in Cleveland!   In my neck of the woods today, I must have faith that spring is coming.

So that’s what I’m latching onto on this last page in Chapter Two in my book of Opportunity. Goodbye February, hello March!  I know you’re bringing us one step closer to Spring.

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Video gaming…those were the days?

Remember when.   Is everyone who passes the half century mark programed to utter those two words?

Today on Page 27, Chapter Two, in my book of Opportunity, I’m contemplating that.

With more than half of our lives over, is that why those of us who cross over the big five-o threshold tend to look back at the past instead of forward to the future?

Recently I ate lunch with a co-worker who is just a few years younger than me and we started talking about “the good ol’ days.”

At first, we discussed restaurants and stores long gone from the main street of my hometown and then we delved into childhood reminiscences.

Most of our conversation revolved around those two words, “remember when.”  Remember when the drug store had a soda fountain counter?  Remember when there was a five and dime store?  Remember when you could eat at the snack bar in that store?  Remember the candy counter?

My friend remembers her grandma taking her to the “five and ten” (as we called it) where she allowed my friend to pick whatever candy from the big bins that she wanted and she would happily go home with a ¼ pound of goodies.  I also remember salivating there as a kid surveying all the candy and salted nuts you could purchase.

In the middle of the wooden floored store stood a wide staircase that led downstairs to where the magical toy department existed and the pet department where you could buy not just fish but tiny little turtles too.  I know because I had two of them.

I was one lucky little girl because my oldest sister worked at the five and ten store while she was in high school and sometimes I was the lucky recipient of a treat from there.  I especially recall receiving packages of cut-out dolls.

Life was a whole lot simpler back in the day.  Children played with simple toys.  We didn’t have electronic gadgets that blinked, beeped or lit up like a Christmas tree.  Computer games, video games…non-existent.  A computer was something mentioned in science fiction books.

Indoor play consisted of items like jacks, yo-yos, pick-up sticks and cut-out dolls – cardboard folders with a flat cardboard figure (mine was National Velvet) and sheets of paper clothing that we cut out with our scissors. The paper clothes had tabs on them that folded down on the doll to keep the outfit on.

A package of cut-outs could keep me occupied for a long time.  I loved playing with them so much, I would even make my own from the huge Sears and Roebuck catalog.  I would cut out an entire family, their clothes and a household full of furniture and appliances all out of that one catalog.

But a large segment of my play time was spent outdoors.  My neighborhood girlfriends and I even set up elaborate Barbie doll arrangements outside under the trees or on the front porch.  We ran as we played different versions of tag, we jumped rope, we rode our bikes, we swam in their pool.

We made up our own games and imaginary playtime scenarios.  Sometimes we played secret agent, sometimes restaurant, sometimes house and we did it all outside.  If it wasn’t raining we were outdoors.  If it snowed, we couldn’t wait to be outside sledding, making snowmen, building snow forts and engaging in snow ball battles.

Hours of very inexpensive and simple fun.  All accomplished without a computer, an expensive game system or TV.

When today’s children reach their half-century marks in age I wonder if they will sit around and reminisce, “Remember when we stayed inside all day with our noses stuck to a computer screen or the TV playing video games.  Those were the days.”

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Putting on my happy face

My lawn is covered with several inches of snow.  The sky is overcast and gray; gloomy rain is predicted to arrive followed by more snow.  No sunshine whatsoever.

All week long I’ve had to awaken at o’dark thirty to travel to the school farthest away from my house to present programs for my non-profit employer for the first class of the day and I’m not…shall we say an ‘early bird.’   So I’m a little tired and grumpy.

My house is naked on one side where the siding blew off in a windstorm.   Spring hasn’t shown its perky little self in my neighborhood yet.

But it’s still a beautiful day in the neighborhood!

Why?  Today is the birthday of my last born – my son, who lives and works in the state next door.  Of course, Mama in her empty nest was feeling a little melancholy over not seeing son for his birthday.  But then the miraculous text message appeared on her cell phone yesterday announcing that son will drive the six or so hours home today after work and will arrive in time for birthday cake tonight!

Mama quickly became a happy camper.  Papa went to a near-by bakery known for their yummy cakes.   There will be some celebrating at Mama’s Empty Nest tonight and tomorrow! I’ve got my happy face on!  And it makes me want to sing:

“Gray skies are gonna clear up,

Put on a happy face;                                                                          

Brush off the clouds and cheer up,

Put on a happy face.

Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy,

It’s not your style;

You’ll look so good that you’ll be glad

Ya’ decide to smile!

 Pick out a pleasant outlook,

Stick out that noble chin;

Wipe off that “full of doubt” look,

Slap on a happy grin!

 And spread sunshine all over the place,

Just put on a happy face!”

Yep, celebrating the life of my son is like spreading sunshine all over the place.  I can’t help but put on my happy face!  Happy Birthday to my beloved son on this 24th page in Chapter 2 of my Opportunity book!  I love you!

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Stirred but not shaken

“A great wind is blowing, and that gives you either imagination or a headache.” ~ Catherine the Great

Well, so much for imagination, bring on the Tylenol.   A great wind really did blow through my neighborhood this past weekend and it didn’t leave much for our imagination.  Instead, we ended up with the headache, an expensive one.

We live in the country about six miles out of my hometown.  Our home, situated on a couple of acres of what used to be farmland on the rise of a small hill, nestles in a bit of a valley.  Sounds tranquil, doesn’t it? It’s not; it’s like living in a wind tunnel!

The wind whips up our little valley and slams into our house with such force sometimes we actually hear it hit our attached garage and whoosh around us.  We’ve grown accustomed to Christmas wreaths blowing off our windows and doors, flower pots dancing across the deck floor, patio furniture taking nose dives off the deck and even shingles flapping off the roof.

Friday night a windstorm blustered through and funneled into our valley with ferocious force.  It slammed, it banged, it whumped, it thumped.  For a minute, we thought we were hearing thunder, continuous thunder.  Then we realized the wind was savagely ripping something from our house.  Hubby opened up our deck door and a flash of white sailed by – a piece of our vinyl siding!

Hubby climbed out a second-story window onto our front porch roof which gives easier access to the garage roof than climbing up a ladder.  He hoped to salvage some of the siding and slide it back in place – in the middle of a windstorm –  but to no avail.  I felt certain he would be whacked on the head by flying siding and fall off the roof, so I fearfully yelled into the gusty gale for him to come back inside.

By the time the wind huffed and puffed its way out of our area, the upper part of our house (which faces the wind tunnel) was left naked.  Slats of siding and broken pieces of white vinyl were strewn hither and yon in both our front and back yard.  Portions of our snow fence, which helps keep our driveway from drifting shut with snow, were blown completely off the posts.  Not a pretty sight.

American author Mark Twain once said, “Our best built certainties are but sand-houses and subject to damage from any wind of doubt that blows.”

I understand what he meant.  Doubt can take down a house built on sand in no time flat.  So if you build your house on the sand or even in a wind tunnel, prepare to sustain some damage.  You might even get blown away!

That reminds me what Jesus said in Matthew 7:24-27. “Therefore everyone who hears these words of mine and puts them into practice is like a wise man who built his home on the rock.  The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.  But everyone who hears these words of mine and does not put them into practice is like a foolish man who built his house on sand.  The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell with a great crash.”

Of course, Jesus was talking about more than houses here.  He was talking about putting our faith into practice, about not just being a hearer of God’s Word, but a doer.  Any building that expects to stand the test of time better have a strong foundation.  It’s the same way for faith – we must build it on the Rock, our Savior Jesus Christ.

It’s Chapter Two, page 22, in my book, Opportunity (2011) and I’m glad to say at our house we have a strong foundation, our faith in God.  There is no doubt.  We may have flying siding, flapping shingles, blown down fences and our house may be shaken, but we will stand firm in our faith.

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Seeing Mom

When I flipped over my daily calendar at work, today’s date garnered my attention like a neon sign flashing in the darkness of night.  Today marks the 12^th anniversary of my mother’s passing from this life into the next.

At first, overwhelming sadness consumed me as I remembered this day when my mother succumbed to that evil disease called cancer.  After 19 long days of being hospitalized, she just quietly and peacefully stopped breathing while my sister, my father and I kept vigil beside her.

Remembering that day makes me want to cry.  It doesn’t matter how many years pass since you lost your mother or how old you’ve become, part of you still wants your mommy.

So yes, I miss my mom terribly.  I miss her voice, I miss her loving hugs, I miss the way she loved all of her grandchildren.  I miss her laughter, I miss her cooking and baking, I miss her sense of fun.  I miss her strong determination.  I miss her sewing and craft projects.

I miss the way her face would light up with joy when we came home to visit and I miss her tears as we parted.  I miss her little notes about this thing or that.  I miss chatting on the phone with her.  I miss her love for growing things whether they were flowers or vegetables.  I miss…everything about her.

But even though I feel the void with her gone, I see her still.  I see her love for shoes, shoes and more shoes evidenced in my oldest daughter.  I see her love for baking cookies and scrumptious goodies demonstrated in my middle daughter.  I see her willful resolve proven in my son.

I see the strong, capable hands of my mother when I glance at my middle sister’s hands while she prepares tasty meals in her kitchen, just like my mother used to do.  I see my mom’s love for handiwork in my oldest sister’s hands as she creates lovely and useful things.

I smell my mother when I catch the clean fresh scent of soap.  And I hear my mother’s laugh in my own voice and sometimes when I repeat a saying just like Mom would say it.

And each night as I nod off to sleep, I wrap myself in memories of my mother when I tuck myself under the beautiful hand-stitched quilt she lovingly made for hubby and me.

So on this 21^st page in Chapter Two of my book of Opportunity, I will take the time to remember not the day of my mother’s death but the legacy of love she bestowed on my family and I will give thanks to God for the life of my devoted mother.

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.”  ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Just me and my subliminal messages

Picture this scene.  Empty nest Mama tooling down the highway in her vehicle in Chapter Two, Page 18, of her Opportunity book. 

Bright sunshine-filled day.  White fluffy clouds in the sky.  Temperature hovering near the 60 degree mark.

The snowy landscape that has greeted her for the last three months vanished.   It’s so warm inside the car, she cracks open her window  and smells the delightful fresh air.

“Spring is coming!” she happily thinks.

And then she realizes she’s been humming the tune, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas!”

Whoa.  Back up the truck.  Whaat??  This actually happened to me yesterday when I drove to my hair stylist’s salon for a much needed hair cut on a very spring-like day.  I realized I had been singing a Christmas song in my head for much of the trip, which made absolutely no sense to me whatsoever.

And then the proverbial light bulb came on.  At one point along my way, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a scene that must have prompted the Christmas music CD in my brain to switch on.

Way back at Christmas time, a house not far from mine exhibited a massive Christmas display of lights and a horde of those gigantic blow up decorations, probably at least a dozen or so.   Yesterday for some reason, every one of those gargantuan yuletide greetings was blown up and I caught a glimpse of them as I passed by.

I guess I can chalk it up to subliminal messages – you know those images your conscious brain ignores but your subconscious supposedly perceives since your conscious mind doesn’t have time to rationalize or analyze the message.

Makes sense.  Evidently, my brain couldn’t rationalize a fleeting image of Christmas decorations inflated and ablaze in the middle of a warm, spring-like February day, so my subconscious latched onto the visual image and voilà , cue the Christmas music!

My subconscious mind is a crazy place, I’ve decided.  I am a dreamer.  By that, I mean I dream voraciously at night while I sleep.  I know this because I remember my dreams often and vividly.  And let me tell you, some of my dreams are whoppers!

I once met someone who credited dreams with vast spiritual meaning, so much so that she often consulted with a dream interpreter.  No kidding, this person would call her dream guide, long-distance no less, to ask what her dreams meant.  She must have programmed the interpreter on her phone’s speed dial because she consulted with her all the time.

My dreams are often wacky, disjointed tales, but if I think long enough and hard enough, I can usually decipher why my subconscious mind spews a bunch of strange ideas out and links them into a bizarrely woven dream tapestry.   For example, one night my dream entailed an extremely realistic image of two dogs really going after one another, engaged in a terrible fight.

Before I went to bed, I was engulfed in a book, while hubby watched a World War II movie on TV.  One particular scene portrayed an air battle – you guessed it – which was called a “dog fight.”  Even though I wasn’t watching the movie, my subconscious picked up the words “dog fight” and literally turned it into an image of two dogs attacking each other in my dream.

To further illustrate my point, I used to dream about having a house full of empty rooms.  I would be distressed in the dream and would wander from room to room trying to decide how to fill the void.  It doesn’t take a rocket scientist or a dream interpreter, for that matter, to figure out that my brain was trying to help me deal with my soon to be empty nest.

So honestly, I don’t put too much stock into someone who “interprets” dreams for other people, (unless your name is Joseph and your story is told in Genesis in the Bible) which brings me back to my story of the person who employed such a “consultant.”  Once I casually mentioned to this person that I had a strange dream the previous night.

This lady perked up when I mentioned the word “dream.”  (First red flag.)  She asked me to tell her my dream and was extremely interested in the details.  (Second red flag.)  Later that day, she actually called me to ask me if she could relate my dream to her “dream consultant.”  (Third red flag.)

And rather than giving a polite no thank you, I was so caught off-guard that I think I said, “Um…sure…I guess so.”   In no time at all, this woman called me back to inform me that the dream weaver, who had never met me, (can I just say thank goodness here?) had indeed interpreted my dream.

I listened.  I managed a polite “Thanks for telling me.”  Then I hung up the phone and laughed.  Out loud.  For a long time.

For every image that appeared in my dream, the dream lady had a deep spiritual meaning to impart to me.  “Okay, whatever,” I thought.  After all, God does give people dreams, just check out the Bible.

But the part that cracked me up was when she attributed the most spiritual significance to one part of my dream, which was going down to my basement and retrieving a container full of old flatware that my dad gave me.   Today, I don’t even remember what all she said about this part of my dream, something about the “silver your heavenly Father has for you, which you must dig down deep into your soul to find.”

Now I am all about the fact that our good and gracious God can and does bestow gifts upon us.  Truly I believe that, but the reason why I guffawed so loudly is because at the time I dreamed this dream, guess what really existed in my basement?  An old tin container of eating utensils from my parents’ camp, left behind items my earthly Dad had given to me when he sold the camp after my mom passed away.

An actual old beat-up bunch of flatware gathering dust crept into my dreams because I was puzzling over whether to keep it or give it away to Goodwill.   Of course, the dream weaver had no way of knowing that, but she sure spun a good yarn.

She and my subconscious mind would probably get along just fine.

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Giving it away

Image via freedigitalphotos.net

“Love isn’t love until you give it away.”

It’s Valentine’s Day and our thoughts always seem to turn to romantic love on this day and bountiful bouquets of blooming flowers and heart shaped boxes, filled with delectable delights of chocolate, prettily wrapped in colors of red or pink and exquisite,  expensive jewelry.

For some, it’s a day of swooning delirium when your true love bestows gifts that supposedly demonstrate just how much you are adored.  For others, it’s a day to ignore or dread – just ask any single young woman without a boyfriend what she thinks of Valentine’s Day and you’ll see what I mean.

I know I will not receive a gift from my true love today and I’m totally fine with that.  Matter of fact, I told my husband not to buy me anything.  When you’ve been married for 33 years, Valentine’s Day just doesn’t seem that important.  My husband doesn’t need to spend money on gifts to prove his love for me because he expresses his love every day and not necessarily in words.

Hubby proves his love by the way he fulfills his role as husband to me and father to our three children.  I see that he loves me when he does something as mundane as unloading the dishwasher or preparing a meal.  I feel his love when he listens to my frustrations and understands where I’m coming from.  Even a simple act like bringing me a hot cup of tea in the morning expresses his love to me.

Seems to me if we are going to set aside a day to celebrate the emotion of love, then that day should encompass all forms of love, not just the romantic kind.   Love is the one thing for which every person on this planet yearns.  We humans were created to love and be loved and God showed us so well how to do that when He sent His son Jesus to earth to personify love.

“For God so loved the world (that’s us) that he gave His one and only Son, (that’s Jesus Christ) that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”  (Now, that’s a gift of love!) ~John 3:16 (New International Version – my words in italicized parenthesis)

I was reminded today that there’s so much more to love than flowers and romantic thoughts.  This morning, I sent my adult children a text message saying, “Happy Valentine’s Day to my three sweeties.  I love you very much!”   Lucky for me, all three of them responded much in the same way. “Thanks. I love you too, Mom!”

Family love means the world to me, but there are those who don’t experience that kind of comforting love in their families, those who only know ridicule and discord, who don’t feel loved even in their own homes. My heart aches for those who haven’t experienced that kind of love, but that’s where God steps in if you let Him.  He is our ever loving Father and He pours His love into the holes in our frail human hearts that family couldn’t or wouldn’t fill.

Once we experience God’s saving love and grace, He tells us “My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.  Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.  You are my friends if you do what I command.” ~John 15:12-14

Most of the time it’s easy to love our friends because we like them, they generally treat us well, and we enjoy their company.  Today a former co-worker visited our office.  We haven’t seen her for a very long time as she moved away to another state and hasn’t been back here in many years.  We shared stories, joys and struggles.  And as we hugged goodbye, these words rolled off my tongue, “Love ya!”  I’m that kind of person.  If I care for you, I’m definitely going to let you know and I often tell my friends how much I love them.

It’s easy to love those who are beautiful inside and out and we should let those we love know it, not just on Valentine’s Day but every time we are together.  But how easy is it for us to love the rest of the world?

You know, those we don’t agree with, those who treat us with disdain, those who have issues that are difficult to deal with, those who are just plain unlovable, those that hate us.   Jesus addressed that in Matthew 5:43-44 when He said, “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.”

I’ll tell you what, that is not an easy thing for me.  Valentine’s Day or any day.  So on this celebratory day of love, this 14^th page, Chapter Two, in my Opportunity book, I need to examine my view of love, especially when it pertains to those I may have deemed unlovable.  Do they see love in me?

“Love isn’t love until you give it away.”

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Cat cabin fever

Don’t let them know, but after my humans left for church this morning, I turned on this contraption that Mama always seems to have on her lap now days instead of me.

I better let you know, it’s me typing this…Callie…the calico cat in the empty nest.  I don’t know why Mama keeps telling people she lives in an empty nest.   Excuse me, what am I, chopped liver?  Chopped liver….that sounds pretty good actually.  Wait a minute while I scour the kitchen floor and see if they left any crumbs from breakfast lying around.

Drat, she must have swept the floor recently, nothing good to nom on.  Of course, my humans don’t eat chopped liver.  If they did, I would know because I always instantly smell what they’re cooking or eating and patiently wait beside the kitchen table by the big tall one, the one my fun humans call Dad.  He’s a softie, that one.  He always gives me a few bites of whatever he eats.

The short round one who refers to herself as Mama, she’s a meanie.  Never gives me her food.  But she does provide pretty sweet kitty treats for me from time to time.  However, she has the audacity to expect me to perform tricks to get a treat.  Can you believe that???  A cat doing tricks…[shakes head]

I usually comply with her shenanigans because those treats are very tasty and she’s such a stickler, she won’t just hand some over to me.  No, she makes me sit, dance and beg.   And then she has the nerve to make me get my own tidbits out of the can.  She’s a trip, but I do admit I like it when she pays attention to me.

Oh yeah, that’s been a problem lately.  She’s been ignoring me A LOT!  I don’t understand it.  You would think that since the fun humans moved out and left us all alone that I would be receiving the royal treatment like I deserve.  By the way, I really like those three younger humans, especially the male one; I love licking his tasty ears.

But since they’re gone, wouldn’t you think Mama would just dote on me?  Shouldn’t she be fawning over me instead of this black thing without fur?  I try so hard to see why she’s attracted to this box, but every time I attempt to walk over the typing buttons or see what’s on the screen, she pushes me away.  How rude!

You know I wouldn’t be so offended if it wasn’t winter and I didn’t have cat cabin fever.  I absolutely hate snow!  I hate it when it’s cold!  I don’t know why Mama gushes over and over again about liking cold weather.  I think she’s nuts.

Cold weather, that’s the problem.  I don’t want to go outside when it’s frigid, snowy or rainy and sometimes just because I’m feeling a little antsy having to stay in the house, Mama gets all huffy with me and dumps me outside on the front porch or on the back deck.  How could she do that to me?

So what if I make her get up from whatever she’s doing every five minutes to let me in and out of the garage?  We wouldn’t have this problem if they would keep my litter box inside the house.  And sometimes I just like to go out there for a change of scenery.  Can I help it if I awaken from my daytime naps and I’m hungry?  I hear her telling Dad that I am a pest!  That really burns me.

She gets mad when I sneak upstairs to sleep on my missing humans’ beds.  Well, I miss them and their beds are comfy.  They always paid more attention to me than she does.  She gets mad if I follow her around in the kitchen when I can smell darn well that she’s making food.  She gets mad if I think I might want to go outside (you know, just to check if it’s suddenly gotten warmer) and then I decide no way, it’s too cold and I run away to hide when she opens the door to the deck.

She also gets mad when I sit at the front door and sniff to see if I can catch a whiff of something interesting.  For some reason, she thinks I want to go out in the freezing cold weather so she opens the door and I just sit there looking at her and won’t step outside!  And then she gets mad all over again and tells me I’m driving her crazy!

Well, she drives me crazy.   Listen, I’m not a noisy kitty.  I’m very gentile and well-mannered so I don’t loudly meow at her.  Can I help it if she’s so engrossed in her black box that she doesn’t hear my soft lady-like “mee-ahhs” when I need something?

When she ignores my pleas for help, I jump up behind her if she’s sitting on a kitchen chair or sometimes reach up and tap her with my paw and she actually shoves me away!  Then she gets mad again if I accidently sink my claw into her leg.  Well, how else can I get her attention?

Personally, I think she wouldn’t be so provoked at me all the time if she would just do what I want her to do,  focus on my needs, play with me when I want to play, pet me when I want petted and ignore this weird box.  After all, I can’t wait for spring to come too.  She’s not the only one here that’s experiencing cabin fever!

I can’t wait to go outside and chase some birds.  I can’t wait to take my naps in sunshine on the warm wooden planks of the deck.  I can’t wait to guard the yard from pesky intruders in the evening.  I can’t wait to jump at flying bugs and roll around in the green grass and eat some of it too.  I’m tired of staying in the house all winter, but it’s much too cold to be outside and I don’t want wet paws.

Instead I am cooped up in this house with one cranky Mama who tells me I’m getting too fat and that I’m annoying sometimes.  If she would just let me sleep where ever I want, eat whenever I want and stop complaining that I’m making her hot when I’m trying to catch a few zzz’s on her lap, maybe I wouldn’t be so antsy.

She just needs to stop devoting so much time to her “blog” (I don’t really understand what that is anyway, but I know it’s not as pretty as me!) and play with me, stroke my head and talk to me.  Is that too much to ask?

Uh-oh, I hear the garage door going up.  That means my humans are back.  I’ve got to sign off, but before I go stick my nose out the garage door to see if it’s warmer outside, could you do me a favor?

Tell Mama the cat’s out of the bag.  Tell her you know she’s been ignoring me and you won’t read the stuff she puts in this box any more until she starts paying more attention to me! Mee-ahh.  [That’s thanks in kitty speak.]

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Color my world (please) part two

And so the story continues.  Empty nest mama living a quiet life of peace and solitude with hubby feels sad on occasion because: (choose one)

a.  her children have all grown up and moved away

b.  sunshine is missing in her neck of the woods

c.  the view outside her window is colorless

d.  all of the above

If you chose response d, you win a gold star today!!  You are an ace pupil.  You’ve been reading Mama’s book of Opportunity for quite some time now and you thoroughly comprehend the subject matter.  You probably have even read her previous edition copyrighted in 2010.

So on this snowy day – yes, it is snowing again in my snowglobe world here! - this 12th page in Chapter Two, I shall reward you (and me too!) by providing a plethora of colorful photos from the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens, taken last February on my mini excursion to the ‘islands’ with my husband.

They are a much more welcomed sight than the sideways snow squall I’m watching out my kitchen window right now.  Really!  The snow is blowing sideways like my snowglobe got knocked over.  Even the hawk that just flew out of a tree behind our property is fighting to fly against the barrage of snow and having a hard time of it.

So let’s fly away ourselves to a happy place via photographs!  Hope you enjoy the explosion of color in case your world is as barren as mine right now!

The spectacular, gigantic glass art pictured above hung from the dome and greeted us when we entered the conservatory.  Read more about this fascinating work created by Washington artist Dale Chihuly here: http://www.chihuly.com/

We left the snowglobe and stepped into verdure so lushly green I really did feel like we had just landed on some tropical island.  As we meandered from one section of the conservatory to another, feasting on all the colorful sights, I could not stop photographing everything, probably due to the color deficit I experienced looking outside at my landscape every day at home! I was drawn to the vibrant colors like a butterfly to sweet nectar.

I even enjoyed the southwestern room with cacti of all sorts and shapes. Then we visited the rooms where the Orchid Show unveiled sights of glorious color in flowers so unique and intricate and fragrance so sweet.

After this uplifting few hours of vacation time away from the bleakness and dreariness of winter, our respite ended and we traveled back to our country home….to the sight below.

Perhaps, being the astute reader you are, you will understand why I feel so color-deprived and why I love this quote by Victor Hugo ~ “Winter is on my head, but eternal spring is in my heart.”  

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com

Color my world (please)

I may be suffering from the middle of winter doldrums, which often occurs for me this time of year.

Even though I don’t mind winter and I actually do like the cold, come February I start to miss color in my life.

The panoramic prevalence of whiteness everywhere coupled with the bleakness of a hued world of greys and blacks makes me yearn for a rainbow of bright colors.   The lack of abundant sunshine doesn’t help much either.

Occasionally, I think I suffer from Seasonal Affective Disorder (yep, SAD can make me sad) especially after we experience several bouts of gloomy snow-stormy weather sans the cheerful sun.   Winter scenery out here in the country, although it can be spectacularly beautiful, can also commence to look extremely stark and bleak.

Last year in February, my husband suggested a trip to the ‘islands’ to cure my ailment.  But since we lacked the funds for a real trip to some place tropical, he meant visiting the conservatory in our nearby city to check out an orchid show.

Interspersed amid room after room of abundant greenness were bursts of vivid color in conjunction with exhibits of amazing glass art by artist Dale Chihuly.  I compare that afternoon excursion to a re-awakening of our senses after a long winter’s nap.

The profusion of color that greeted our vision was exhilarating.   The fragrance of delicate flowers tickling our noses smelled exquisite.   Resonance from a steel drum symphony of Caribbean style music provided by a local musician reverberated in our ears.

Our tongues tasted the sweet tartness of tropical fruit grown on trees right there at the conservatory.  Our skin felt the heat and humidity necessary to keep some of the tropical plants happy.  Not a typical day in the wintry month of February!

By the time we returned home from our sensory overloaded excursion, I was almost giddy with elation.  What a morale booster our ‘trip to the islands’ proved to be!  Perceiving color, color, COLOR amidst the lush green foliage of all the plants and trees evoked such joy!

So I thought I’d share some of my photos taken that blustery, snowy day in February last year just in case you might be suffering from winter blues too.  It’s Page 11, Chapter Two in Opportunity and these pictures offer me a chance to color my world.

Here’s hoping they help you “think spring” too!  It only seems fitting to sing an ode to that season here, and Chicago’s song, “Color My World,” springs to my mind: (my thoughts in green italics parenthesis)

“As time goes on (and winter drags on)I realize

Just what you (Spring) mean to me.

And now, now that you’re near, (so says Punxsutawney Phil)

Promise your love (which you give us with color)

That I’ve waited to share, (all this winter season long)

And dreams of our moments together. (hopefully in sunshine)

Color my world with hope of loving you.  (Oh, Spring, my Spring, wherefore art thou?)

 

©2011 mamasemptynest.wordpress.com