Exquisite Spring!

Perfectly Pecked Oranges

The Baltimore Orioles were here this past week. They perfectly pecked the juice out of this orange. I never expected them to be so systematic about it!

The Emperor of Oranges ... Answers Dead Letters

In this poem, he talks about writing an email to the dead, telling them you miss them, and wanting to know they're all right. When he's Emperor of the Internet, you'll get an automated response back ... Isn't that a lovely thought?

It's been 10 years, Sandy. Yes, Oliver is 10 years old now. Can you believe it? You died before he was born, didn't even get to see him wriggling in this world. He's a good kid, not the quiet, shy kid I was at that age. He is confident, bold, smart, when he applies himself. He could do anything he'd want to do in this world. I did good. :-)

Sometimes I can hear you laughing--oh what a big laugh you had! But you also knew how to cry. You felt your feelings, whatever they were. You taught me how to stand up for myself. What a gift you were in my life! I miss you. I want to know you're all right wherever you are now. I want you to know that I still think of you. You made a difference in my world. Thank you for being part of my story. I just wish you were still here so we could do another canoe adventure, so we could lay on the dock out at Cherokee Marsh and count dragonflies, so I could hear you laugh ... so we could talk again.



My close friend, Sandra Matthews died unexpectedly 2 months before my son was born in 2001. I had just visited her the weekend before ... I don't think any of us saw her suicide coming.
About 6 months later, I did a meditation to talk with her, to find out if she was all right and to say, "Good bye." When she met me in this "dream," she gave me the gift of a flower--a water lily. She said, "For your future, Kid!"

When I started putting this quilt together, the flowers reminded me of the water lily Sandy gave me that summer's day. And now, I know that I can talk to her anytime I want ... Those who loved us in life, love us still after death. This seems like a good day to wrap myself in that quilt of comfort.

"The day will come when it is more painful to stay tightly closed in a bud than to bloom." --Anais Nin.

These colors are not at all "Sandy." She was bright and flashy and sparkly and loud. Before I knew her, she was an exotic dancer ... but she couldn't wear the high heels anymore, so she had to make a career change. She became a naturalist, learning about ecology and giving nature tours--she loved the outdoors. Read about a Fall Day in the Baraboo Hills with Sandy. No--these are really MY colors. This quilt is a gift to myself--with Sandy's continued blessing and encouragement.

Sandy, I wish you could see how I've bloomed. You were the gardener.