Sitting here at my computer, looking out the window to a wonderland that is winter. It is very quiet in the house and I can hear the gentle ticking of the clock on the wall. It brings back a flood of memories for me of sitting in my grandmothers home in front of the windows where the sun streams through the lacy curtains and floods her violets with life giving sunlight. She had a cuckoo clock and I will never forget the sounds of that clock for the rest of my days…..such a gentle sound and it soothed me when I wanted to forget the world and how some people made me  feel.

I miss spring and I know it will be here soon. It means life starting over again, although in our life we never seem to be able to recycle like the flowers in spring. Oh to be able to hear the gentle wind blowing through leaves of green and smell the earth as a spring rain brings life to its essence. I miss being able to go outside and walk around a lush garden of fruit trees, Iris, and green grass with no shoes on. Don’t you just love the feel of the earth beneath your bare feet? I remember walking around our garden in the house we grew up in, it was like the one described above, and I loved to sing, sing like no one was listening as I walked around that garden. I watched striped caterpillars on the milkweeds transform into beautiful Monarch butterflies, and watched as the new born kittens in the garage nestled together in a big furry ball while the momma cat was out hunting for dinner.

Those were the simpler days…..we left our doors unlocked at night with no fear of anyone coming in and doing terrible things to the family or stealing your possessions. Oh to have those days of being carefree back again, but wait!!! I do have them…..locked away in my memory so that I can bring them out once in a while and remember the smell of the lilac bushes, or running through my grandfathers cornfield, or feeling the rush of air over my face as I ran through the fields on horseback. The taste of the tomatoes out of my moms garden or the bread she made out of the zucchini she grew. The taste of rhubarb with salt, or the green apples from the trees, but the best taste was the gooseberries we took from over the fence of grandpas neighbor. And I will never forget the love that was put into all those quilts my momma made to keep us nice and snug on a cold winters night.

Oh so many memories….I must get busy and write them all down and share those memories with my family before it all fades and is forgotten like a beautiful sunset on a warm spring day.

Till next time from the Duskweald