Reflections

A Slow Fall

/ still a dreamer / 12 Comments

Fall this year seems different. It seems to be taking longer to be … well, fall. Not to complain. The days have been mostly sunny and in the 70’s for weeks, and in the 50’s-60’s at night. Heaven, really.

On my front porch, fall has arrived at my door with a basket of leaves and a pumpkin I picked up from Melick’s Farm in Oldwick a few days ago. In the morning sun, it glows so nicely.

Meanwhile, on my back porch, summer still reigns, and the vivid pop of color from Impatiens cheers up the quiet afternoons.

And the coleus (which you saw a few posts back) just continues to grow like wildfire. The will to live and grow that these plants have is undeniable, and I have already decided that they will stay in their favorite spot until the frost, whenever that may be. I’ll be sorry when they go – they’re such a bright spot when I go down to get the mail or hop in the car. I don’t think I’ve ever been more vigilant about a plant’s needs. Especially when all they ask is to be watered.

Inside, fall has come to grace the spots that welcome seasonal touches … the oak washstand in the hallway, and spots all about the house that welcome autumn colors and textures. Likewise I have switched my dishes to those I use for fall and winter, and am happy to put away the bright colors of spring and summer.

There’s something so home-y about the fall colors, so cozy and warm.

Outside, the trees have not yet turned color, not many leaves even fallen yet. Days are beginning to get noticeably shorter. Apples are coming in to the local farmstands, along with pumpkins and gourds of every color and pattern, though there’s still plenty of fabulous corn and tomatoes to be had. Soon there’ll be freshly pressed cider, and a chill to the air.

Fall coming slowly is just fine.

The Tyranny of Lists

/ still a dreamer / 14 Comments

Lists were once my steadfast friends. They stood by me through thick and thin, kept me organized and on track, and confident that everything was going smoothly. And then they took a turn, and could, I found, be my worst critics, leading me to wonder if I was failing.

I’ve always had two different list pads. The one you see on the left takes myriad forms and appearances. What I list there is still enormously useful – food shopping and cleaning tasks go there, as well as my daily to-do list for work. As my work has me often jumping back and forth between different projects and/or different clients, a list makes sure I cover everything and get done what needs to be done in a timely manner. Those lists are still my friends.

It’s the one on the right that had become suspect. I absolutely love this list pad – given to me by a friend who has always believed in me, it simply says “FOLLOW YOUR PATH.” It’s where I have always listed my personal creative goals – my writing and illustrating of children’s books; growing my shop and business on Etsy which features my French Bulldog art; updating and writing my current website and blogs; expanding a social media presence, etc., etc. Needless to say, all of these involve a multitude of tasks and effort. So I started making lists on this pad of all the things I need to do.

It was the first time a list ever turned on me, taunted me, left me feeling like I might be failing. Whenever I looked at that list, it made me wonder how would I ever possibly get where I wanted to go? And then I decided to not write any of it down. After all, who knows better than I what needs to be done?

I decided to go for a kinder and gentler use of that lovely pad. Now I consider the time I have, and the task(s) I most need and want to get done and can accomplish in that time, and chunk it down into do-able steps. The fact is, neither I – nor you – can do everything at once, and for this we need to forgive ourselves while still doing what we CAN do. We can assess our goals; make sure we have our priorities straight; and then make a plan to get there.

And so my list became my friend again.

How Much Do We Really Need?

/ still a dreamer / 21 Comments

One of the things we’re told about maintaining (or losing) weight to keep our physical health in good shape is that it’s not just about what we eat, but also about portion size.

Exhibit A: It’s summer, and who doesn’t like ice cream in the summer? But how much do we really need to keep us happy … or healthy? Here are three bowls in my home. I know there are plenty of people who would fill up that yellow bowl in a heartbeat, and even the blue one is a decent portion, but I’ve found that that little green and white, handmade pottery bowl with a shape that can never really be filled suits me just fine.

Exhibit B: Just enough to feel I’ve really enjoyed some ice cream, but not so much that I am berating myself afterwards that I probably put on another pound.

While I was sitting with my journal and coffee this morning, I looked around my living room and wondered, “How much do I really need?”  If I had to pack up tomorrow and live in half the space I currently have, what would I keep? What would I – could I – let go? It was a funny thought, because every now and then we become aware of how much “stuff” we have.

Some of the stuff, we undoubtedly need – something to sleep on, some kitchen essentials, something to keep our clothes in, some books (of course), and in my case, the tools of my trade – my computer, peripherals, art supplies, etc. But where does one draw the line?

Sometimes I think I could easily get rid of half of what I own tomorrow if it were easy enough to do so, and honestly, I’d not think twice about it afterwards. As we move on in life, we accumulate stuff. But as we grow, we also outgrow much of it. Yet here it stays. Like people who have these huge two car garages, then fill them to the brim with stuff, and park their cars in the driveway. It’s incredibly common, but I cannot understand it. I don’t want to have that much stuff. And yet, in my own way, I suppose I do. Still, I’m grateful that I have no attic, no garage, and a thimble of storage space in the basement – it keeps me in check. And then there are the people who identify with their stuff.  Who they are, in their eyes, seems to depend on the luxury car, the McMansion, the trips, the designer clothing …

But we are never really our stuff. And getting rid of what we once thought was indispensable and who we were? it creates space for who we are now. Who we might be. Maybe it’s a thought as I grow older; maybe a thought as I want to keep finding out who I am. But portion control is starting to sound more and more appealing, because the less we need, the more space we have to spread our wings.