He didn't know I was behind him. I didn't say a word. I just took this picture and left him to his own moment.
Figuratively and literally, we've been forging new paths as we settle more into this town. Every morning when the sun comes up and before it starts blazing, I'm in the yard digging up old bricks and placing them in piles around the yard. Some have sunk deep into the earth, already laying in perfect old paths. It only seems right to leave some where they once were, but I need many to make our new paths, the one to the garden, to the back porch, to the soon-to-be greenhouse, to the arbor and to the ivy garden. Sometimes I feel like I'm stumbling around this yard, falling over good ideas and hopes and promises. Thank goodness though that all that stumbling is a true pleasure.
While magical beautiful things are happening in our hidden away corner of town, there does seem to be a bit of a learning curve in how one, especially a new one, adjusts to the status quo of a town drenched in history and family and rules. The people here amaze me daily with their kindness and gentleness, but their kindness, for some, doesn't necessarily mean acceptance. It's much different than living in a big city where sometimes you have to be loud just to be barely heard. We're slowing learning the rules and what gets us where.
I think maybe it's true that good things come to those who wait, to those who are patient and understanding, who dig up the bricks if only to lay them back in the same spot and to those who seek acceptance from others with open hearts and open minds. There's so many good things here that hopefully we master that learning curve within no time.
It's raining this morning. I'm thankful for the reprieve from the sun, but wishing it would clear up soon, for there's many more bricks to find.
My hands and eyes are tired as I write this and my cheeks are a deep shade of pinker this morning. My hair is wild from a late night shower and falling into bed too drained to dry off. Garden shoes, gloves, my apron and dirty clothes are laying in a pile in the hallway. There are pots and plants, bags of dirt, a shovel, a rake and rocks strewn on the back deck. Next to me are seed packets and catalogues, a list I wrote yesterday of new ones to try. A pile of logs from a tree we cut down is stacked at the bottom of the stairs, waiting to be assembled into a trellis.
All evidence of a good dream coming true, the gardens, the flowers, the open spaces, and yes, even being out there in my nightgown. We discovered a mulberry bush, the pear tree is filled with little fruit, the fig tree is blooming, rose bushes have opened and the delightful scent that fills the rooms when the windows are open is honeysuckle. I have honeysuckle! Everything good and pure and natural is right outside my door. And the one thing that I'm so tickled about....that first hydrangea bloom. I have honeysuckle and hydrangeas! I'm sore and tired and sunburnt, but I couldn't be happier, you'll find me out there again today.
I'm sending you my first bloom Jane. Have a wonderful day, lovely friends. ♥