Three Dandelions and a Wind

I love this blog because it's a mish mash of my interests. I don't do it for publicity.  I do it because I like it!  Hence the irregularity of posts.  If anyone is still interested in what I have to say, then I hope you enjoy this piece I wrote tonight.  I rushed home as quick as I could to write about my experience because my writing muse (inspiration) was with me!

Three Dandelions and a Wind

I took the trash out the other day, not because it needed it, but because I needed it.  I needed a breather from the packing, crying and needing of me.  As I walked back to the house,I noticed a bunch of dandelions.  Dandelions are known as a weed in Iowa, but as a child, dandelions were considered the best summer’s prize.  A field of fresh and untouched dandelions would be the jackpot.  One blow and fluffy white tufts, soft as down, would explode forth and dance upon the wind.  

I felt like a child as I ripped one from its stem and blew with all my might.  The tufts danced magically upon the wind.  Flowing various directions, some being pushed down while others soared towards the golden sun.  Still others fought their way away from the ground to reach the sky and others got caught on a power box or a wire or a blade of grass.  Each journey different and each journey special.  The wind was their master and decider of their fate.  The tufts simply allowed the wind to guide them wherever they needed to be.  

After watching these tufts intently, I decided to go inside.  But wait, who can honestly resist a second dandelion?  I stooped down and grabbed another, a full dandelion that was not missing a tuft of white.  Full of promise and life.  I blew.  The tufts sank.  They fell to the ground in a sad and unpromising fashion.  I looked at the dandelion and wondered, “What changed?”  Then it hit me-the wind.  The wind had receded.  Not a puff of wind was available to push these tufts to their destinations.  Instead it had abandoned them and they were now rooted to the mound of mud my children had made with the water hose and some dirt.

I thought, “I should write about this”, but got busy with packing and life.  Tonight, after a run to the store, I could see the river glistening in the distance.  She was calling my name and reminding me that I would not be seeing her for much longer.  The thought made me sad.  I couldn’t resist. I sat on her grassy banks, noticing the rippling and continuous flowing of water, murky water, but still the MIssissippi has a powerful force and spirit.  Amazing and terrifying at the same time.

I noticed a dandelion and you must know the need to release those tufts. I blew.  The tufts did not respond. I blew again.  They stubbornly clung on unwilling or unable to let go.  No matter if there was wind or not, these tufts were never going to let go.  They were stagnant.  I pulled them off with my fingers and set them free. They fluttered down to the ground in an unappealing way.  I then threw the stem into the river where it laid lifelessly and began it’s journey downstream to an unknown fate.

I thought of these three dandelions and the winds of change that have come upon me recently and upon many in all walks of life.  The first dandelion willingly let go of its home and was eager to journey.  She didn’t know her direction, nor did she care.  She allowed to the wind to change her, ever pulling in different directions and enjoying the ride.  She accepted the wind.  The second dandelion, by no fault of her own, did not have any wind or driving force and fell to the ground, remaining dormant and sad.  Never to grow or progress but to lie.  The third dandelion would not let go, no matter how I tried and was then forced to let go, but received no real reward.  

These winds of change that have come my way over the past year have forced me to grow in many ways.  Many times, the wind has forced me low, down into dark and lonely places.  Many times, the wind has pushed me up into the brilliant sunlight, ever shining, ever pure.  Many times, the wind has let me float along and receive a respite from cares.  However, I have chosen to ride the wind, no matter my fate.  No matter the uncertainty of my future.  I would rather ride the wind then remain dormant and settle for the mud. I will choose the wind which will push me to grow and push me toward the sunlight.  The ever brilliant and life giving sunlight.

Hope Smiling Brightly

Wow, it is has been a good long while.  We are still alive and well here in Iowa.  I was awakened at 2 am by my 13 month old and haven't been able to fall back asleep!  In my desperation to get tired, I checked my email and found this amazing blog.  (I am kind of starting to get tired).  It is called Hope Smiling Brightly and is about grief.  This mother lost her two year old in a choking incident but has managed to rise above and help others in so many ways.  She is amazing and I am wishing I had found her a long time ago, so thank you 13 month old for waking me up so I could find this!  

She is also giving away a cruise, yes, a cruise! A family trip, really? So, I am blogging about this in the hopes of winning a trip to Ireland/Spain.  And you can too, just go here!

St. Patrick's Day (or any day!) hair clips

Come to my etsy shop and check out some new hair clips and bands I made.  They were so fun to make.  I love them in my daughter's red hair!

KathrynAnnBoutique

Pause

I wrote this almost a year ago. I came across it today and was so happy I paused and wrote it down. Life is too short to skip the important moments. (Sorry about the weird formatting!)


I don’t ever want to forget this day. The sun is beaming, not a cloud in the
sky, shadows of swaying tree limbs cover our grass. The weather perfect, the
month , January. The smell of leaves and freshness wafting through the air. A jean
quilt laid out on the grass. A quilt I crafted with my own hands as part of my
Young Women’s project as a 16 year old. Created from overused and worn out
jeans of my dad, mom and siblings. It is worn, but not worn out, still hanging
onto threads of love after nearly 15 years.
A pancake picnic laid out, homemade pancakes, fluffy and thick, fresh and
warm, a special treat for lunch with cool whip. Not whipping cream, but ask
Spencer and Brooke if they mind and they won’t be able to answer because their
mouths are full of cool whip. Talk of today’s school activities. Spencer played
and shared bikes and didn’t cry when his turn was up. He sang “Dinosaur Boogy”.
He read books about animals. He played with Gustavo, Joseph and Ryan. He
spoke of a new girl and blushed. I asked him if she was pretty and he smiled.
Brooke told Spencer that we went to the store, watched Curious George and read
books.
So far, they have played on the slide, played puppies, played on the teeter
totter, played with shovels. They ask each other, “Are you ok?” when they fall
down. “Yes, I’m ok.” they respond in turn. They run to me excitedly when they
share with each other. They share in each other’s triumphs. They work as a
team. They giggle and laugh as only a four and two year old can. I wish I could
push the pause button or at least slow motion. I wish all of life could be this way:
unscheduled and unstructured. The weather has a calming and soothing effect,
lessens fighting, lessens crying, lessens feelings of frustration.
I am sitting on the blanket reading The Heretic’s Daughter, engrossed when
I suddenly think, “I don’t want to miss this. I want to remember this forever.” I
want to remember that on January 31st, 2012, winter, we were outside on an
unseasonably warm day listening to bird’s chirping, leaves waving on the trees,
the occasional car and Pandora randomly playing songs from Disney movies and
musicals. That life was quite simple and lazy for a few hours on a Tuesday in the
middle of winter.
As time passes, I will remember important occasions and milestones, but
will I remember these quiet moments of playing and peace? These small
moments that make up flecks of happiness. That these flecks of happiness
combine to make up the nuggets of life. These are the flecks worth
remembering. And as I sit here unsure of our future, if we’re moving, if I can
manage four kids, if my life will be calm. Suddenly, none of that matters. God

has blessed me with this beautiful day to have some peace and quiet and
reflection. That my life will continue on the path that He has planned for me.
That I will make the necessary choices in faith.
Suddenly, a bee flies into my face. He is persistent and we run indoors to
escape him. Spencer says, “He got all of his honey” and I am grateful for my
many blessings.

St. Patrick's Day Hair Clippies

These are for sale on my etsy shop.  Wouldn't they be perfect for St. Patrick's Day?  They are $2 each and $1 shipping.  Go ahead and check them out here!

Something I wrote: might be worth 2 minutes of your time!

My husband was working late the other night and I got the writing itch.  It had been a few months since I put pen to paper.  Once I started, I couldn't get enough.  I completed my tinkerbell spiral notebook that I bought last year when I first started writing again.  This was the last page in my notebook.  This picture is down the street from us.  It isn't the inspiration to this piece, but I need to get a picture of my kitchen window for you to see. Or maybe you can picture it on your own?

                        A quite Thursday afternoon had me washing dishes left from the previous night and listening to Coldplay.  It was a job I didn’t want to do but one made more enjoyable as I looked out the kitchen window. I have never had a kitchen window in the ten years of homes I have lived in.  Until I came to Iowa to live in a small four bedroom, one bathroom brown house with my four kids and husband.  Yes, it is squishy, but how much space do you really need with 4 children?  They would be all over me with or without space!  Therefore, this kitchen window is a bonus in this house.  I can look out of it while doing undesirable jobs.  Emptying the food leftover from dinner into the garbage because there isn’t a disposal, washing and loading an array of dishes: plastic plates, glasses and multiple utensils.  It appears that the dishes never stop coming.  They always find their way back to the sink, dirty and begging to be cleaned and shined and freshened. 

                        This day, this beautifully gray Thursday complete with silence and Coldplay was made still.  As I gazed out the window, I saw one fall, now two, now three.  Swirling, twirling, dancing, meeting in the middle and moving apart to unknown spaces.  One to fly higher and land on an outstretched evergreen branch.  One to sink lower, desperate to touch ground and meld with other flakes spread across the white and frozen ground.  One that can’t make up his mind and flits between sky and earth.  Where are they going and where will they land?  Truly, it doesn’t matter but that they add to the beauty of the landscape and the amazement that crisp, clean snow provides to a weary soul.  A clear reminder of the goodness and purity of white and the symbol of a world made new through fallen flakes.  The branches stretch out, crinkly and cold and brittle.  Arms with fingers extended and awaiting fresh moisture.  Snow that will cover its barren brown branches and blanket them in beauty.

                        This view is worth it to me to live in this house that can’t seem to provide enough storage or space.  But the closeness of winter and nature and freshly fallen snow will remain in my mind long after the memories of cramped quarters have vacated.  My lips nearly cry out to the kids that snow is falling, but then I quiet.  I want this moment to myself.  Selfish? Maybe.  But these few flakes belong to me.  These puffy, lacey snowflakes are mine.  This quiet Coldplay, snowy Thursday afternoon will always be mine.

Paparazzi Jewelry Sale!

I am going for it!  I have two displays set up and lots of headbands and hair flowers and rings and bracelets. I am going to drop them off at my kid's teacher's lounge tomorrow and see what happens.  Should be interesting!  If anybody is interested in this paparazzi craze, check it out here! paparazzijewelry.com