The things that save us
A bit of news...

A bluebell reprise

Spring on the hill

It's been Fairyland in the woods and fields behind our house over the last few weeks. . .but now the bluebells are beginning to fade, gently curling in on themselves. Soon they will disappear again as mysteriously as first they came. Here, then, are a last few bluebell pictures, a last few moments of lingering enchantment. . . .

Bluebells and stone

At the edge of the bluebell wood

Bluebell woodland

I seem to be reflecting on "loss" these days. Why? I'm not entirely sure. Perhaps it's just the fading of the bluebells. Or the tiresome limits of convalescence, reminding me of mortality. It's Howard about to leave the country for a month (whatever will Tilly do without him?), and a dear relative losing his home, and the remaining threads that still tie me to my old desert life beginning to loosen. It's descent and ascent, death and rebirth, winter and spring, the cycles of sun and moon. It's loss and change clearing the ground for whatever new phase of art and life comes next. It's loss and change swaling the landscape of the soul. And so the seasons turn.

The thing is, I'm strangely content right now, though perhaps you wouldn't know it from these recent melancholic posts. Change is never easy, but I like the things change brings: new art, new stories. New beginnings.

The look out

Tilly in a sea of bluebells

 

                                                                      To live in this world

                                                                      you must be able
                                                                      to do three things:
                                                                      to love what is mortal;
                                                                      to hold it

                                                                     against your bones knowing
                                                                      your own life depends on it;
                                                                      and, when the time comes to let it go,
                                                                      to let it go.

                                                                              -- Mary Oliver (from In Blackwater Woods)

 

Comments

I've only just found your blog and would like to say what lovely reading it is....I will be back :-)
A x

Ahhh....change is so bittersweet.

Here on the other side of the pond I am feeling the same. I just lost my dear cat Rio of 17 years. How extrodinary and mysterious the web is to connect people. Change and a new season always opens up new doorways if you keep alert to see them. Sweet Spring!

Hello Terri,
Thanks for sharing, (tuesday post - the things that save us). Tomorrow will be my 50th birthday, and your words (and your neighbor words) are truly an inspiration.
The next words are for Howard, in portuguese. (Ask him to translate for you...)

Olá Howard,
Sei que em breve vem a Portugal. Julgo que ao Festival de Teatro no Porto (FITEI).
Espero que goste da sua estada por cá.
Se vier a Lisboa e necessitar de qualquer apoio conte comigo. Vivo e sou professora, (art teacher), numa vila muito perto de Lisboa, ( Alcochete).
Boa viagem!

Such beautiful photos - a relief to rest my eyes on some greenery and the blueness of the flowers. We are having an extremely dry year here in south Florida and my eyes are tired of seeing only sunshine and brown grass, but I know that some people would be glad to see the sunshine - ah well...
The lines from Mary Oliver are particularly moving and thought-provoking (as always). Thanks for sharing

magical photos... I find yourwords so interesting. I am also really inspired by Myth and Folklore... as well as nature. I am going to link to your blog to my bloglist and look forward to folowing it
♥♥♥Sammi

thank you for this week's posts. i'm finding them very much about how i am right now.

I think many people can relate to your thoughts of late. Sometimes people want to swoop in and save you when you voice such thoughts, not seeing the contentment that underlies the flow of change, that point where something is shifting and it's not a bad thing.

Olá Fernanda,

Happy birthday! I've passed your kind note on to Howard, who will be on his way to Porto in the morning.

With warm regards,
Terri

Oh heavens, that is so true!

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