It's been hard to find a chunk of time for exploring this new home at Gaia since signing up a few days ago. I already love it here, however: thanks Sandra, for leading me here!

Meanwhile I do manage to blog (almost) daily at stonyriverfarm.blogspot.com . There I'm focused mainly on writing and living and general smart-assery; I'm looking forward to having a more contemplative space here, to share just 'me'.

Here's a photo of one of my masterpieces.

Thanks meanwhile, for all the hellos etc!

I used to move a lot: I've lived all over the world for too many reasons. One of the first things I always did in a new place, was unpack my photos of family and friends and favourite memories, and stick them up all over...then I'd feel 'home'.

So, though I'm long settled now in my real-life house, I thought that I'd make myself feel more at 'home' here by sticking photos up. I chose a few of the beautiful landscapes around my house, and one of each of my children.

Then I looked at the page.

Wow....am I ever blessed. I still have a lot to complain about, *coughRAINcough* but suddenly, I don't feel like complaining anymore.

:-)
That photo page is a nifty idea.

I'm away tomorrow for a long weekend in the Big City. I think I'm looking forward to it.

Mostly it's a working weekend, to finish a novel manuscript with some edits and needed additions before shopping it. Whenever I have to do something that takes a long chunk of time and concentration, I leave home to do it: my family doesn't need my stress, and bless them, they can't help but distract me, so it's best for everyone if I go away to do my 'heavy' stuff, then come back more in love with them than ever, from having missed them.

When I come back it'll be nearly time for Back To School.
Oh thank God.

Hearing my kids laugh together (not fight) and enjoying a lazy Sunday morning together.

I had to think about this one for a moment or two...but if I look back over my entire life for one thing I've always done each day, it's look for the postman when he comes.

Maybe what I like best is that no matter how dull a routine I've found myself in, the daily batch of letters can always upset it, for good or bad: some life-changing things have arrived that way, as well as the comforting stand-bys, like my mother's letters used to be.

My mother always wrote me several times a week, whenever I lived far away from her. I've kept all those letters; they last, not like phone calls or even e-mails. Her handwriting, her paper, her stamps...they're precious to me now that she's gone.

And I love to be surprised with a postcard from far away when a friend or relative is taking a holiday somewhere. I'm really touched then, to think, 'they thought of ME, while out having fun?' and it makes me smile.

Now if only someone would send me a big surprise inheritance...who knows? Maybe tomorrow's the day!

LOL

My husband's aunt, Sister Claire, turned 90 years old this week, and we went to celebrate with extended family.

You never saw such a beautiful lady in your life: her joy and lovely smile are infectious.

These blessings were printed on a card at the party; worth sharing I thought! 





May you sip contentedly from the fragant wine of your life.

May you stretch eagerly into the light of each new day.

May you discover kernels of wisdom hidden in unwanted experiences.

May you find comfort and consolation when you are hurting


May you know the protection and guidance of your angels.

May you hear the tender voice of the Beloved calling to you in the deepest part of your being.

May you have a soul friend whose unconditional love gives you the courage to keep growing.


May you be a bearer of loving kindness when you meet those who suffer.

May you gather your daily blessings into your heart and relish their presence.

May you never give up seeking greater peace for yourself and for your world.


May you go to sleep each evening being aware of being held in the embrace of a merciful and welcoming God.

May you hear the marvelous music singing in your very soul every moment, lauding in the exquisite gift of being alive.

The only time today I passed someone without speaking to them, was when I tiptoed by my baby daughter's room during her nap to take a walk to the village; we needed milk and rolls and a few things.

My son wanted to come with me, so off we went; he never stopped talking the whole way, two miles there, and back again.

Perils of country walking: EVERY car that drives past you knows you, stops to offer a lift, when you decline and plead a need for exercise, they pull the handbrake and settle in for a long chat.

Two miles there and back again should have taken me an hour and ten minutes, tops. Between the friends and neighbours in the passing cars, and on the street, and in the shops, and the 'help' of Boy, we were only half-way home when DH nearly ran us down on a curve: he'd come looking for us FOUR AND HALF HOURS after we'd left!

Truth is, out here you CAN'T pass someone without talking to them: you just don't get that chance.

I'm tired.

Happy too.

Years of working in public service takes the edge off all strangers, I think. They become customers LOL even years after you've retired or left work.

So even though I left librarian work years ago, I still offer to help people find something if they're looking lost, in a library or a bookstore or even the supermarket. I smile automatically whenever someone meets my eye; I can't help it after years of having SMILE SMILE SMILE drummed into me.

Fortunately, I do genuinely like people, so the smile comes easily enough I guess, and if I'm helping someone else with their troubles, no matter how small, it takes my mind off my own. Plenty of people have certainly helped ME in my lifetime, so it feels good to give back some of that helpfulness whenever I can.

Another influence on how I feel about strangers, I suppose, is living in the countryside: we all know each other, everyone is somebody's family or neighbour here. If someone's a stranger here, they're very likely lost!

A few weeks ago, I received the very first international submission for the caregiving anthology I'm editing. It was from a man living just a few miles from where I grew up and his bio included his poetry website, which is named for a tiny island that's only a few miles away from where I live now. What makes the coincidence a bit strange is that the city and the island are 4,000 miles apart, in different countries.

In at least one case, my life was changed by coincidence.

Nearly ten years ago, my husband was working a demanding job that he hated, as a Green Card worker in America. On an icy January day right before his birthday, he was ordered to repair a 20-foot tall piece of machinery so up he went---and fell back down, cracking his ribs among other injuries.

After an uncomfortable hospital stay in which his lung collapsed but xrays showed no serious damage otherwise, we had a long talk about that job. We couldn't afford it, but we decided he needed a break; besides, we had a brand new baby son that his family hadn't met yet. So, we decided to take a six-week recovery holiday back in Ireland.

His sister happened to have a house standing empty in his home city, after her tenants had moved. That was lucky, we said, and took up her offer to stay there.

Then one day, while we were pushing the baby buggy to Granny's, a car pulled up beside us. "Is that you?" a voice calls out. It's his old supervisor, from the job he used to do before he emigrated. Saying goodbye a few minutes later, he told my husband that he could have his job back if he wanted it, if he wanted to stay home.

Well, we said. THAT's lucky. We'd been talking about staying, and wondering if it was the right thing to do...moving house is one thing, but moving country? Again? The very thought made me tired.

Then my husband ran into an old co-worker while in town a few days later, and mentioned the job offer. It was a sad thing, the friend said. The man who'd replaced my husband had climbed onto his shed roof a few weeks before to wire it (about the same time as my husband's fall), had slipped on ice and fallen, and gone to the hospital with pain in his ribs and chest. He was sent home with pain medication, but died later that night after his lungs collapsed.

So my husband's old job was opened up by the exact same circumstance that sent him away from his current one. That, we agreed, went a bit beyond 'lucky'.

So he took the job, and family in America shipped our things to us. (I'll never forget THAT bill.)

So, our son is growing up in Ireland, a very special special-needs child, and I've come to believe that something about him--some touch of destiny--is behind that coincidence and some other odd occurances in our lives.  In strange ways the world often shifts in his favour, as if watching over him, and when I'm with him I often feel myself in the presence of Something mysterious and wonderful.

I'll save his story for another post; this one is long enough already!

My blog, I think, has been my best gift to  myself recently; I re-launched it in June. Since then the occasional hour I take out of my day to work on it, is another small gift to myself

In a large family stuffed into a small house, that's 'my' private place when a physically private place wasn't possible: the time I take to fiddle with it and post to it always feels like a gift, too.

Comments from visitors always make me smile or feel less alone out here in the rural wilderness, so it gives me a much-needed lift each day.