The Passing Storm

After blowing relentlessly for 4 days, the wind is finally gone. 

We had very high winds here in the foothills during the height of the storm. 

We had no damage here at our little place in the world, except for one precious thing...

The blue glass gazing ball, a gift from my Mother, was shattered. 

It was my own fault. 

I usually take it in during storms. 

I simply forgot. 

But at 2 a.m. I was awakened from my fitful slumber, as the wind howled outside, 

to a dreadful crash and tinkling of glass. 

A noise that is guaranteed to get you right out of bed - fast. 

As we peered through the glass door, Blue Eyes said to me, 

" Did you take the blue globe off the stand?" 

It took me a moment to understand what he meant. 

And then I saw the sparkling, jagged fragments glinting in the porch light. 

The heavy clay pot holding the ivy plant on the railing
had blown down and broke it into a million little pieces like icy tears. 

I can't tell you how sad it was to be picking up
the fragments of my mirrored world on such a night!

The next morning as the wind blew steady and a pair of red tails hovered,
 suspended above me, 

I picked up the remaining pieces that had fallen to the ground. 

And while I worked, with gloved fingers to protect me from the gossamer shards, 

I thought of my Mother. 

She loved to give gifts such as this - gifts for the garden. 

Everywhere she lived, no matter what the circumstance or how hard she was struggling, 

she always planted flowers. 

All weekend I have been thinking of my Mother and her Mother before her. 

And how they worked so hard to beautify their surroundings. 

And how much I miss them. 

Now I am the Matriarch of my own family

and they are not here to guide me in how to do this. 

This shattered reflective orb

has brought forward reflections of my life,

 and the women who have come before me. 

And what I have learned from them. 

As sunlight finally illuminates my homely tasks - 

tasks that my Mother, my Grandmother and all those ancestors before me have performed to

put order and beauty into the lives of those around them - 

I think of how brave they were, how strong, and how determined they were to raise their families and pass down a legacy of hard work, honesty, resilience, devotion, and fortitude. 

As I fill the sink with soapy water, as I wash and fold laundry, 

I think of those before me, performing these same simple tasks. 

I remember my Mother's cozy kitchen, her delicious food,
her never ending quest to bring beauty to her humble life. 

I think of my Grandmothers and I remember their kitchens. 

The small white farmhouse kitchen of my maternal Grandmother with the amazing pantry. 

Oh, how I loved that pantry with its shelves of pies and preserves and big crockery bowls, 

and a window overlooking the garden where

her prized gladiola's bloomed, and red geraniums filled the window box. 

As the sunlight streams in, I dust and open windows
 and think of my Paternal Grandmother in her tiny cottage in the woods. 

And how she made the most amazing spaghetti sauce. 

She had a glass china cabinet on her sun porch filled with tiny salt and pepper shakers. 

There must have been a hundred pair. 

She would let me play with them if I was very, very careful. 

Now that is trust. 

I remember how these two remarkable women effortlessly served their very large families in their modest, humble, yet beautiful kitchens - with love and devotion. 

They made you feel welcome. 

I can't tell you the difficulties these women endured -
 both raising 8 healthy children during the depression and the war. 

As I bake bread for the evening meal,
 I think of them doing this very same thing to keep their families fed. 

Everything always made from scratch. 

From garden to pantry. 

Necessary tasks that seem like luxuries to us, now. 

But which tie us to the past. 

There is a satisfaction in these plain and simple rituals of life. 

Nourishment for the body and soul. 

I think of them as I go about my day and how, just by example, they

passed their wisdom on. 

Now it is I who must perform that task for my children and beyond. 

As I carefully negotiate this awesome responsibility, 

I think of my Mother and Grandmothers cheering me on.

But first on the agenda - a new crystal ball.

I think Mom would approve!

I need all the help I can to get through the storms of life

and pass the wisdom on.

xoxo

Know well what leads you forward
and holds you back, and choose
the path that leads to wisdom.
-Buddha-

By three methods we may learn wisdom:
First, by reflection, which is noblest;
Second by imitation, which is easiest;
and Third by experience, which is bitterest.
-Confucius-

The pessimist complains about the wind;
The optimist expects it to change;
The realist adjusts the sails.
-William Arthur Ward-

Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom.
-Thomas Jefferson-

xoxo

Today I am linking with Madge from 'The View From Right Here'