Sunshine and Citrus

I'm back. I didn't even mention I was leaving, but I was just too strung out trying to get ready to go away for Spring Break with the family to write. I became practically insane getting ready to leave: pissy, near tears, fretting over the details, worried about leaving my dog, angry at everyone for not helping me clean, plan and pack, my usual pre-vacation mess. I don't transition well, but I was desperate for some sunshine. Even taking 5000 IU's a day of vitamin D, I can't get my levels up near normal. So I picked Florida for the one vacation fits all spot- golf for the boys, theme parks for the girls, a mini visit with the mother in law to appease my 2 years of guilt, and it was all good. Despite crazy weather, crazy logistics, crazy crowds, we did it all, everybody was happy and nothing went wrong, except a few storms and a lot of wrong turns.

Once I got where I was going, I let it all go, all the tension and angst, and despite weird, crazy dream disrupted sleep in a strange bed, I went with the flow. Took it all in. Rode a few rides and roller coasters that scared the crap out of me, made me scream like a girl, laugh like a kid and feel very, very alive; watched people, soaked up the sun and green and flowers, watched lightning shows like none I've ever seen, walked for days until my bones ached, ate the best fish and citrus and honey of my life - and then came screeching back to normal. I think I can make it to better weather here now.

Sorry I've neglected this blog, and I'm so far behind on all my favorites it will be a while before I get caught up. But I will.

Hope all is well in your world.

Catching some rays

I hate Daylight Savings Time. It throws me for a loop every year. I'm done with the dinner dishes and it feels like midnight, it's been dark for so long already.

I've been fighting back by going outside as soon as the last kid is on the bus, camera in hand, dog underfoot, catching sun everywhere I can. There's still lots of lovely leaf colors if you look low and close, and sparkles everywhere.

Today I brought some leaves inside and played in front of the window for a while, catching them up close in the light. I've probably taken a thousand pictures this week, but it's cheap entertainment. I keep thinking I'd like to paint some abstracts like these bradford pear leaves, if I were a painter. They are amazing, and they fascinate me with their blotches of colors and white veins.






When the sun is dipping behind the trees, I make sure I notice, and if there are some pretty clouds, I run out and snap a few shots of the sunset too. There may not be much daylight to work with, but I'm paying attention, using all that's available, sunup to sundown. I'll get through, I always do. I'll sit under my full spectrum reading lamp and eat my vitamin D and try to exercise and bake and make soup and meditate and not go crazy while the days get shorter and colder, until we start the climb back to warmer, longer days. And I've got all this sunshine saved on my hard drive to look at any time I want, and some pressed leaves to look at and remember.

Just Like That...

THIS...


.... turns into this:

One minute things are all sunny and happy and the next minute I'm in the dark, stubbing my pinkie toe, tripping over a nervous dog, looking for the damn flashlight and candles because the storm of the century is upon us... it's no fun getting teenagers out the door for school with the power out in total darkness, but we got it done.

October was the sunniest on record, EVER, beating the previous record set in 1958. No wonder I've been in a decent mood. I thought maybe hormones were leveling, but now I'm sure it was the sunshine. I'm glad my head was out of my ass far enough to notice it, appreciate it and revel in it. It was splendid.

Yesterday, the weather gods gifted us with a late October balmy sunny day that was too good to be true. Today, the storm cells cover 2200 miles of North America: the wind is howling, with gusts this morning at 60 mph, sustained at 30 or so. The house is shaking, the windows are rattling, and they're saying this will continue for 3 days. Damn. My little town had a small tornado destroy a barn, but otherwise we are lucky, destruction-wise. Weather-wise, we are screwed. It will be awful for about a week and when the winds and monsoons are gone, we'll be left with is bare trees and varying shades of gray and brown. Lucky for me, and for you, my lovely readers, or am I down to a reader! that I took many photos of the leaves this week, so I could remember them when they are gone. I'll share them in a later post. Here's the best one:



And so it goes.

Anyway, it wouldn't be a Mel post without a nature shot or too. In honor of the pending Halloween festivities, here are some creepy crawly things for you to look at. This spider has driven me crazy all season. She's almost as fat as my thumb, and spins giant webs, six feet across, from the tree branches to the ground. I've run into them at night TWICE. Ick, ick, ick. Once I rode my bike through it, calling to the dog and got a mouthful of web, but clearly no spider. She will not give up, this one.

This one I found in the grass in North Carolina. Looks like a skull on her body, almost.
This is evidence of pure love. My husband called me outside as I was rushing out the door, saying nature lover that I am, he knew I'd want to see the largest praying mantis he'd ever seen. It's sweet how he indulges my nature nutty side. Of course I had to go get the camera and the tape measure, because that's how I roll. I've seen one or two bigger, but this one is grand.

So, wishing us all calm breezes, sunny days and creepy crawlies in their proper places.
Until next time.

Summer

Some things blooming in my yard:








I haven't posted in a very long time. I've been busy. I've been irritable. I've been finding my way. I've come out of my little funk smiling, and enjoying the summer sunshine. Made my page yellow just because I can. And because of the daylillies, creamy and buttery and yellow that make me smile. So the irises are gone. The daylillies are here and so am I.

Hope the sun is shining on you, where ever you are, and you're finding something to smile about. Happy Summer.

Nothing's Bugging Me

After 4 straight days of soul sucking wind and rain, the sun has returned. Still windy, but I'm not complaining. Here's some bugs I saw while I was puttering around the yard, planting flowers and pulling weeds. I almost missed the ones on the hydrangeas, they are well hidden. I saw at least 5 of the butterflies, and am really happy about the butterfly garden I'm working on. It's not much of a design, more of a messy mish mash, but it will bring the butterflies and hummingbirds, so I'm OK with messy. The goldfinches and house finches are singing up a storm too. Life is good today. Happy Friday!

Good Things

Thanks to Bethany over at Bloom, I'm having a grateful moment here in the frigid midwest. She reminded me of the new bulbs I planted that will bloom in a few months. Here are a few of my favorites from last Spring:






In less than 2 months, they will be back, this time with new tulips and alliums!

Here's another good thing, in a sideways and silly kind of way. Yesterday morning we had a rare earthquake in IL and I live 8 miles from the epicenter. Nothing cracked, nothing broken, just a few of my tinies fell off their shelves and luckily none broken. I've been collecting these since I was about 7 years old. They are my version of treasure:


See the tiny clay critters on the right? The horse and vulture both fell off the shelf but did not break. Those I bought in high school about a million years ago. I always thought I'd get crafty and make such things, but have not yet.

But feeling the earth move beneath you - it's mighty humbling and makes for some serious gratitude. Especially when it sounds like an explosion or bomb happening out your window. I live in a lucky time and place, and I am grateful.

Here's something that's good for me, but sucks for people I love. I'm not here:


Kinda funny, except they got an unprecedented 22 inches of rain last year following the worst drought in ages the year before that, with just under 9 inches. The weather is wreaking havoc on my homeland. Southern or slower Delaware doesn't get much snow, so they weren't prepared to handle the almost 2 feet they got, let alone the 2 inches of sleet on top of that. The news is awful, roofs are collapsing all over the place: Walmarts, Big Lots, churches, schools and over 50 chicken houses so far. Growing chickens is the economic mainstay in the area, besides farming. It is devastating. But my family is safe, and warm, and their roofs are holding, and the weather is letting up, thankfully, so they can begin to dig out.

So hooray for good things, and especially for sunshine and blue skies.



OK, one more good thing. Music. Music!! I'm not named Melody for nothing. I'm happy my music player at the bottom of this page pops out and can hang out with me all morning. Go ahead, help yourself. The little square on the top right pops it out so you can listen too, there's something in there for everyone. I've been enjoying the heck out of some other bloggers' music. Future post fodder.

My Fall Trees

Fall has come early this year.

October came gloomy, cold and wet.


But today we are gifted with golden sunshine.



My trees look hopeful and lovely, welcoming and protecting, and I live gratefully in their shade. They all reach out to the west, toward the sunsets, which are magnificent.














I wonder, do they talk to each other, guard each other against the winds, the cold, complain about the squirrel and chipmunk circus, the chattering birds that live in their branches, maybe whisper of the owls that sleep silently in the oldest ones?

Do they look sharp when the hawks fly near, protective of the prey, or celebrate the respite from hunger for the hunter, or do they pay little attention to the life around them, focused instead on the sun, the sky, the wind?

I know only a few of their secrets.





Do they mourn the passing of the giant old ones, lost to chainsaws or root fungus, remember them fondly, tell their tales to the younger trees? Do they share their stories, encourage their babies, coo over the acorns?





I would love to sit at their roots and listen to them whisper, remembering back for centuries, before the towns came, before the forests were cleared, before they became relics of a once great tribe.



I will enjoy this sunny day with them, knowing that winter is coming, and wait with them for the Spring.