Miss Willmott

I have a tendency to fantasize (sometimes more than I should) about  things. For example, in the gardening world, I find plants' Latin names to be too scientific. I much prefer the common ones used by gardeners who, like myself, are probably unable to memorize or pronounce such words. I ask you, is there a romantic heart able to resist the charm found in names like "Sorcerer's Violet" or "Roaming Charlie"?  This brings me to Miss Willmott  aka potentilla nepalensis, a beautiful perennial with magenta colored flowers. As a result of my fanciful disposition, I envisioned the lady after which the plant was named to be a beautiful woman, quiet but passionate. I went as far as to imagine this woman's dwellings, a thatched roofed cottage hidden away in the gorgeous English countryside. I am saddened to have learned this could not be further from the truth. Miss Ellen Ann Willmott was in fact "a short-tempered nutter who berated her army of gardeners if she spotted even a single weed."

This discovery should deter me from fantasizing about people and the plants that are named after them, but I know the next time I visit a garden center I will stop in my tracks as I pick something called perhaps... "Love in a Mist"... and I won't be able to resist taking a trip aboard the Wings of Fancy.

Flooded

It's been a crazy weekend. Spent amidst buckets, wet towels, noisy wet vacuums. We got enough water in our basement to create minor waves and ripples.  I confess I did imagine I was Alice in the pool of tears so I made sure I carried a thimble in my pocket...

In any case, here I am, my fingers are a bit wrinkly but other than that, I'm okay. All I can say is one thing:

I am ready for Spring!!!!

Photo by Bing Images

Mirror talk

When I was a young girl I’d spend hours in front of the mirror. I’d giggle, make faces, make fog with my breath and write my name. Back in those days the mirror was a playground, a land of magic right at my fingertips in which I could see myself just as I wanted to be. I trusted these visions.

It was fun to watch the cat be startled by it’s own reflection. Silly cat!

 Silly bird!

Puberty arrived and my visits to the mirror were not fun anymore. I’d stare at my face unable to recognize it. Gone was the small button nose to be replaced by one that looked way too big. Was I too skinny? Look at the size of that pimple! I hated my hair! It was agony to have Insecurity perched on my shoulder mocking my every move. My body was also alien, and I found I did not know how to sit or what to do with my hands.

I’m not sure how or when it happened but one day I faced the mirror and was greeted by someone new. Was that really me? I smiled, winked, turned my face left and right and I was happy. Insecurity vanished as I laughed on it’s face.

Life got busy, motherhood arrived with it’s many parcels. The mirror was visited briefly in the morning and at night. A quick hello, a passing glance.

Then, as I rushed amidst scratched knees, runny noses, chorus practice, and driving lessons I'd catch a glimpse in the mirror and took notice of slight changes.

Menopause, just like puberty, is a cruel trying time. Transitions, changes, mood swings, total internal chaos. Insecurity did return and found it's place on my shoulder. It did mock me, it made me sad. I know that the woman who will emerge after menopause will not be the beautiful butterfly that followed puberty. Insecurity could feel my acceptance of these facts and it's flied away.

My visits to the mirror are now perfunctory. There is no use in lying, the magic of the mirror has been long gone. I am well aware that looks will vanish, but the essence of the girl I once was will remain, the mirror may not reflect it, but I know it's still there.

Return to Wonderland

I went down the rabbit hole

and landed in a magic place

full of color, talking flowers, and things that made no sense...

I sought shelter under a mushroom,
and nibbled cakes that made me larger...

I followed an old friend, the White Rabbit,

as he dashed about checking his watch saying "I'm so late!"

I had tea. I shared laughter,
and admired the Hatter's outfit...


Wonderland, how I've missed you!
I have been so far away!


I must go now, but I'm not sad,
I'll be back again someday...

Photo by Weheartit.com

Daydreaming

It’s March, and just like the weather, I can’t seem to settle. With a list in hand I start the day, there’s laundry to do, beds to make, but as I pass a window I get caught in the lace, such beautiful patterns made by the sun’s rays, and am back in some field visited long ago, and there’s children’s laughter, and a warm summer breeze…time goes by and the bed is not made.

It’s a heavy laundry basket, and I’m reminded of days when my children would ride on my hips, and their sweet scent suddenly fills the room mixing with vanilla cookies and lavender sprigs…time goes by and the laundry is not done.

I must tackle the dust but as I lift a certain figurine I stop in midair and I am back at the store with my friend, and I could almost smell the rain that had fallen that day…time goes by and the dust is still there.


I go to the wardrobe and see my husband’s shoes and my eyes just fill with tears, so many sacrifices, so many plans, all his efforts showing in the worn leather, I’m so overwhelmed with love and tenderness...time goes by and the wardrobe remains disarrayed.


I stare out the window, I walk around the house, I go to the store, I have some coffee, but everything I touch and everything I see brings me somewhere else. I don’t mind. I’m not worried, I know this will pass as soon as the Forsythia starts to bloom and there’s birdsong in the air.

Two spirits dance

Two spirits dance

Amongst the leaves,

Their feet are wet,

Their eyes are moist…

 Deaf are their ears

To spoken words

Round and round they go…

They can only hear the sound

Of their beating hearts play

A rhythm unknown until today…

Photo by Weheartit.com