Slower, please. Not every day is about exasperated extraction, fear of being stranded with "less than". What is this dandy-lion fear, and who let it go to seed? Its stench has grown on me, collected like moss.
The beautiful things and the mystery are what my most fulfilling days are made of. But how the memories flee! It has become clear that I must take to hunting them like wild game. I'll sack them up and pin them on my wall, using nails where necessary. A memory, an experience is like a rare butterfly or bird. With most of them, you only get that one chance to catch and cage, to make it yours forever.
The yard in my head is overgrown. Covered, really. The most obvious and efficient solution would be to simply destroy the would-be flowers' nutrient source, rather than plucking them out of the ground, one by one. I take the ax to the sprinkler, to the bag of "Miracle"-Gro, to the landscaper. Sit down. Breathe. 'Never again', I say. Someone needs to vacuum the lawn while I go empty, decompress; my relief is a cleansing, salty shower, after which I laugh nervously.
Fear has no place here. I said "JOY". I said "lion-hearted lilies". And that's what I meant when I said it. No more out-sourcing this critical labor and skill set. I'm handling my horticultural endeavors myself, with His supervision.
Written by Eden at 4:13 PM