Okay, I admit it: I am a terrible blogger. Not, perhaps the worst (uncle Tom, will you ever grace us with your bloggy presence again?)
It's just been a bit crazy here, that's all.
Starting a business, and working freelance, and barking up every tree... all that takes up a lot of energy.
And then there is the job-- I do massage at a fancy resort on the weekends, and sometimes during the week.
I massage a bit here and there on the side.
And I garden ALL THE TIME. In fact, that is the premise of the business venture that is cooking right now.
I love working with dirt, and plants, and design. I like working with people, and their surroundings, and transforming spaces.
There is a power to cultivation: to coaxing things to grow out of the ground, and bringing color and order and beauty into the world.
There is sanity in creating sanctuary in a chaotic and difficult to manage world. And I find joy in it. I think I am good at it, even if it leaves me depleted, even if my fingernails are always short and there are smudges of dirt on my edges.
I was never meant to be a refined lady, I don't think. I fact, I take great pride in being the gal you can count on to help you fix a flat tire in the middle of the night, or repair a leaky pipe, or replace some siding, or weld a metal piece that is failing.
I couldn't for the life of me tell you how to apply eye makeup in a way that makes you look younger, or how to position your face in a photo so that you don't look like an absolute idiot (proof in point: almost every photo ever taken of me).
But I do know what makes a life worth living. That is good friends, loving family, and something that makes getting up every morning worth it. Something to look forward to and something to remember fondly.
Perhaps I am rambling, but that is a bit better than the cold shoulder this poor little blog has been given lately, isn't it?
Love, and spring rains. That is what will hold us up all summer long.
'Till the next flight of fancy,