Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Life Goes On....

It's been quiet around here. Sometimes I just don't have that much to say. [If I hear a loud "Thunk!" from the direction of his office, I'll know the OC fell out of his chair at that...] Life has settled back down to a quiet routine. I've been writing letters---yes, I occasionally still do that! Doing some applique, since I have gone uncharacteristically ga-ga over Bunny Hill's basket blocks!




Baking Irish soda bread---it IS March after all---and keeping the menfolk fed and supplied with clean socks. The OC is distracted from brooding too much by his killer work load [and I thought when he was working from home things would be so..o..o much more relaxed! Harrrumph to that!]

I've been itching to write, but inspiration's been lacking. Which, I know, means I should just start randomly writing whatever comes into my head and see where it takes me. But I haven't even been moved to try.

So I came to my sewing room, balm for all sorts of troubles, and picked up my stitching.

Have I mentioned how much I love my sewing room? Love being able to leave my work out, so I can pick it up and continue from where I left off, without having to pass an act of Parliament every time? Apart from that, it's the most pleasant room in the house, with a big sliding door to the outdoors. Sunny and cheerful and bright. If my feathers are ruffled I can come in here, close the door, shut the world out and recover my composure.

Time was when I would lock myself in the bathroom to escape the bedlam. And even then the natives would continue the argument through the door, completely ignoring what I had, naively, thought was an unmistakable hint...... A room of my own was a distant fantasy! Granted, it's a little disorganized, but I'm working on that.

The natives, all but one, have trickled slowly away, each to chase dreams of their own. And sometimes, believe it or not, it is a little too quiet.....But shhhh! One has to be careful what one wishes for. If one craves excitement, one might get more of it than one can handle. It's been known to happen. And then, too late, one appreciates the beauty of a quiet life.

But I digress. Which is part of my charm, though there are those who would vehemently disagree, those who want only the facts, not being interested in exploring the little verbal byways into which I seem irresistibly drawn. If you are a facts-only seeker, you're in the wrong place. Go away! You'll just get a headache.

So, where was I? Ah, yes, stitching. I can see everything from here; the Bean on his knees, working away on extending the barbeque patio,[worthy of a post of it's own!]; El Pussygato, attentively watching from inside the screen the busyness of a certain dove outside. At first I am only dimly aware of the dove. He is just a few feet from where the Bean is working, unperturbed by his proximity, or by the occasional screech of electric saw on concrete paver. Each time I glance up he is there, on the wall, or under the tree, and eventually, curiosity brings me to my feet and I go outside to investigate.

The dove is not at all bothered by the arrival of another human. He is intent on his business, which, I soon realize, is the building of a nest! Do you remember the "penthouse in the palm tree" from last Spring? Well, it appears that the accommodations and the locality were satisfactory, certain hair-raising events notwithstanding, so they are back this year, to the very same tree, preparing for another batch of dove-lets, and all the work that that entails.

I sit down on the pavers, just inches away from him, and watch as he gathers the



choicest twigs. He then flies up into the palm tree and delivers the goods to the waiting beak of Mrs. Dove! She appears to be in charge of the actual construction. Which, I think, is a very sensible division of labour. After all, if men were given their heads in the design process, our houses would be fifty percent garage space, 30 percent television viewing space, and the kitchen, bath and bedrooms would have to fit into what was left. Sensible Mrs. Dove!

I was struck by the comforting reliability of nature; the certainty that, no matter how dreary the winter, Spring will come; the dependability of little creatures to be so in sync with the universe that they know exactly what they have to do, the best time to do it, and, most importantly, how to do it!

How often, in the past, have I watched wistfully as a gaunt mother bird has tirelessly foraged for worms and bugs to feed a monster baby, twice her size, who relentlessly follows her about the garden, doing nothing with his own beak but squawking at mama, and holding it open while she stuffs it with worms?

And empathized!

Or watched the perilous flight training sessions, where baby birds are prodded by mama and papa into death defying leaps from the nest.

And wished I were wired with such unerring instincts!

Sometimes the babies don't understand that there are predators out there [oh, how El Pussygato wishes he could get outside to be one of them!] and little birdies need to be fast learners if they wish to become big birdies! But mama is always nearby, keeping a steely eye on any would-be predators.

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven."

"A time to be born and a time to die."

Maria has gone to a well deserved rest, but soon it will be "a time to be born" as our Brit-boy and his Beloved await the birth of their first child, our fifth grandchild. So, the wheels keep turning....Though there are times to weep and times to mourn, there are also times to laugh and times to dance. Each one has its place in the crazy quilt of life.

Rebirth is everywhere. Our lemon tree, that looked like a goner from our unusually cold winter, is suddenly covered with tiny, new green leaves! And The Bean's blueberry patch looks like it might produce enough berries for a pie. Or two. If we can get them before the birds do!





So, yes, it's been quiet around here. We're regrouping. Taking comfort from the rythms of nature, confident that the universe is unfolding exactly as it should.

15 comments:

Ali Honey said...

Your sewing room sounds like a happy sunny place to be.....we all deserve somewhere like that.

The little snake of the last post( not bugle )has a beautiful skin.

persiflage said...

Happy Saint Patrick's Day to all of you. I enjoyed your description of the birds. I watch the magpies here with their lovely warbling song, and contrast this with the raucous shrieks of the very demanding babies.

Thimbleanna said...

Ah, what a lovely post Molly! I do so love your "little verbal byways". And your Bunny Hill block -- it's just adorable. I think this block should be larger than all the others -- you know, in honor of your heritage!

Your sewing room sounds divine with it's door to the outside. And what a wonderful picture of Mr. Dove with his building materials. You're lucky your house would be 50% garage -- ours would be 75% TV, 10% bathroom, 10% kitchen and 5% garage -- only because one must get in and out of the car to and from work LOL!

I hope you had a lovely St. Patrick's Day!

meggie said...

Enjoyed your post with it's little byways. No harm in a little ramble, very enjoyable. I love your Bunny Hill block, makes me feel so ashamed I have not yet begun, & I am so enamoured of their design.
You are very lucky to have a geen fingered Bean! As opposed to a brown fingered Gom!

StitchinByTheLake said...

For someone who didn't have much to say you did it beautifully! So introspective...thoughtful. I enjoyed your post very much. blessings, marlene

silfert said...

Not bad for being uninspired to write... ;) A nice journey!

Warty Mammal said...

I think sometimes it's good to simply live and let one's thoughts be still. Although I always find what you have to say interesting, sometimes I bore myself to tears and simply have to be silent awhile.

Congratulations on your soon-to-be grandchild! The cycle of renewal, as you say.

Warty Mammal said...

I know what I forgot to mention. There's another blog award here for you to add to your immense collection:

http://annecdotally.blogspot.com/2009/03/and-winnah-is.html

heartinsanfrancisco said...

Such a lovely and comforting post. All it lacked was a steaming cup of fragrant tea on a silver tray, with ladyfingers. (I am mightily sick of Girl Scout cookies at this point.)

You are indeed fortunate to have a room of your own. I bought a wonderful Bernina sewing machine (computer) three years ago, determined to learn to use it, but it has to be cleared off the kitchen table every time we have a meal, which gets terribly discouraging. I wonder how the pioneer women managed to keep their tempers and their sewing machines intact. Oh, right. No electricity.

I have a lemon tree, too, and it's my darling pride as it is full of meyer lemons and future lemons in the form of blossoms.

Happy Spring, Molly!

riseoutofme said...

Ah Molly, the joys of having a bolt-hole! I can see you now skulking quietly ... pretending you're not REALLY home ... Hmmm...

You're not subletting by any chance?

Lindi said...

A beautiful relaxing and reassuring post, Molly. I love the way you write. Wish I could write like that.

Stomper Girl said...

It is nice to have the room of one's own. My kids are quite used to me asking for a little peace and quiet. I think having just the 2 is an advantage in this respect...

fifi said...

How lovely...

I hope he nest is not on the ground where the pussygato can dine in total comfort!


The sewing room sounds wonderful. Life sounds wonderful too.

Kacey said...

It's been a beautiful day in the neighborhood. We have a mother bunny and a baby who are living very close by our place and they are not one bit afraid of us. Maybe they know that the old folks around here can't run fast enough to catch them, but I have been within two feet of them and they don't mind at all.
I finished a big quilt top last week and have another in the works to finish before my girls come down for Spring Break before Palm Sunday. Spring is here and life is good.

Anne Marie said...

What a lovely post Molly!! Was up in Carlow the other day and thought of you. Having a place to retreat to while you sew is heaven and I too have a lovely view from my sewing table!