HAPPY ST. PATRICK'S DAY!

La brea ata ann!

It’s a lovely day!

Happy St Patrick’s Day to everyone and Happy Birthday to my husband Don, who is seventy-four today! Without a speck of Irish blood in him, he feels he’s an honorary Irishman and the luck of the Irish is always with him.

This year, we’ll be celebrating at home and watching the parade on TV. The corned beef is already up on the stove and filling the house with a yummy aroma that always brings me back to my childhood. To trace my father’s lineage, I dream of traveling to Ireland with him.  That’s where my dreams take me today-to my grandparents Ireland. We travel the coastline beaches of Cork, and look for the Blarney Castle, walk in emerald grass with sheep abounding and enter the magical woods of Glengarriff. With our ears filled with music and lullabies, stories of leprechauns and laughter, we would sip some tea in a cottage of sod and relish that time forever.

As I prepare dinner for tonight, I leave you with an Irish blessing:

“May you have warm words on a cold evening, a full moon on a dark night and a smooth road all the way to your door.”

FORSYTHIA

Many years ago, I found this poem by James Hearst in an old magazine. I copied it, framed it and around this time of year, I like to share it with some of my friends. Tonight we will be setting our clocks ahead and I thought it was time to share it again with you. It is like an old friend that speaks of spring and hope and faith and of course the glorious Forsythia.

FORSYTHIA

You said, take a few dry

sticks, cut the ends slantwise

to let in water, stick them

in the old silver cup on the

dresser in the spare room and

wait for the touch of Easter.

But a cold wave protected the

snow, and the sap’s pulse beat

so low underground I felt no

answer in myself except silence.

You said, winter breaks out in

flowers for the faithful and

today when I opened the door

the dry sticks spoke in little

yellow stars and I thought

of you.

                     JAMES HEARST

AUTOPILOT

Today, I was chauffeured by a strong wind and a burst of song. I don’t really know who drove my car home from shopping this morning. I seemed to be so engaged in singing an old familiar song that was playing on the radio. I sang loudly in the car as I sat behind the wheel and took every turn with a joy in my heart that sounded from my lips. Although I couldn’t remember all the words to this oldie, I sang on. It felt so liberating to be able to belt out a song where no one could hear the cracking and wandering of my voice. I thought I was truly present in that moment but I probably should have been paying more attention to the road. I was glad that I had chosen to take the back roads home on this dry but blustery winter day. Passing old barns and silos and country homes with charming front porches, I felt I was at last learning to navigate these country roads more confidently.

I arrived safely in my driveway and only then did I realize that I must have been driving on autopilot all the way home. I sat in my car a few moments and gave thanks for my safe arrival but began to wonder: who was really in control of my vehicle all along?   

BOOKS AND BEATLES DAY

As the snow piles up outside, and I hear we could be in for a heavy one this time, I’m planning on a B & B day. Not a Bed and Breakfast, or breakfast in bed, although both sound inviting, I mean Books and Beatles of course. I’m preparing for the storm with batteries, lanterns, a radio and precooked foods, just in case the power goes out and lots of good books to read. I might even crochet some Blue Birds.  My Nook and iPod is charged up and I’m ready for a B &B day. Enjoy the snowfall, if possible, and cozy up with some good books and good music. I’ll see you on the other side of the storm.