First bee glimpsed in 2011.

Yes, our pollinator friends, harbingers of spring, are back!

And hey, so am I.

I’m not quite sure what to write yet.  That first entry after a long absence feels wobbly, I’m learning, like the first day out and about after the flu.  Of course I was inclined to write the apology first, along with the obligatory explanation for my disappearing act, and then the thank-you note for all the messages of support and not-so-random (well, not to me) acts of kindness over the past six weeks.

But frankly, I’d rather just get on with it and write about, you know, the usual — bees, sky, seeds and roots; seasons, harvests, growth and change; love, joy, patience, beauty, gratitude, wonder.  Y’all know I’d have been here all along, writing away and sharing images, if I’d been able to manage it.  (Don’t you?)

And I hope you know how very glad I am to be able to come back to this space and pick up my virtual pen again to communicate with you.

I’ll be back here every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.  This new schedule makes more sense for my circumstances now.  I look forward to witnessing what unfolds in 2011 here at The Enchanted Earth.  With all of the uncertainties F. and I are juggling at the moment, I anticipate at the very least an interesting journey — maybe even an exciting, beautiful, creative and meaningful one, too.

As always, I’m so grateful you’re along for the ride.

Namasté, y’all.

Dear Blog,

You are one year old today.

I think it is time for me to serve you a miniature devil’s food cake and let you smash your face right into it.  I won’t forget to take pictures, either, to try and embarrass you later on when you are all grown up and dignified.

Yes, I am so very proud of you, and I think you are beautiful, even when you have icing on your chin and in your hair.  You have taught me more than I could ever have imagined.

Thank you.

Daisy.

It’s my blogaversary, y’all!

This time last year, I was nearly having a panic attack over the idea of pressing the “publish” button for the first time.  I had no idea then how everything was going to work out so beautifully.  All I could feel, as I read and re-read and re-re-read my initial post, was that old fear that has kept me from showing my writing to anyone for years and years.  Decades, actually.

Let’s just say I had some unpleasant early experiences with publishing and even showing my work to people who were not careful with my developing artistic soul and who stood to gain some things by stealing or trashing or misinterpreting my work.  Also, I was young, and I didn’t know how to defend myself from such attacks.  Pretty soon, I was prepared to burn my work rather than let another human being read it — and indeed, much of my writing over the years has been burned or shredded or even tossed into the trash compactor.  In one rather memorable instance, I even buried a bit of it under a full moon.

Sometimes you have to go for the grand, symbolic gesture.

Around my birthday last year, F. started suggesting that I start a blog, as a creative outlet.  He saw how much I wrote, starting with three pages of longhand stream-of-consciousness writing every morning, and became frustrated with my unwillingness to ever show him anything.  At least when we were dating he’d had the benefit of my words and stories in e-mails.   Now he was getting bupkiss, and because he is an incredibly wise man, he tried to nudge me out of my stubborn and defiant stance.  As he saw it, I was silencing myself and had to be stopped posthaste.

My first reaction was, “And what exactly is this thing called ‘blog’?”

Seems funny now.

Elephant ears, early morning light.

Once I found out — although I still had no idea, really — I backed away from the idea as far as I could go.  I believe I actually may have said things along the lines of how I never could do that, how it would be painful in the extreme, how I’d never have the courage.  A few weeks later, when F. brought it up again, I told him I flat-out refused to even consider it, that he couldn’t possibly understand, and that he was an insensitive jerk to suggest I expose myself and my words ever again.

It was a terrible moment.  I was being asked to open the door just a little bit again, and I reacted with panic and blind fury.  You know those doors you have in your heart, that sometimes you slam shut, and then they get stuck that way, and then it starts to feel comfortable and safe for them to be shut forever?

Well, maybe you are lucky and you’ve never done anything so silly.  But if you have, you’ll know how brave you have to be to even nudge that door open a quarter of an inch.  Such a small sliver of light comes in, not even wide enough to fit a toe in the gap.  But you can put your eye up to it and see farther than you have in years….

I did do that, one year ago.  Only because during a much calmer conversation in late July, F. assured me that no one would ever read my blog.

Not exactly true, it turns out.

Out of curiosity, I checked this morning, and my words have been read (or at least scanned or glanced at) tens of thousands of times now.

Wow.

And I didn’t once die from the exposure.

On the contrary.  This whole experience has been an incredible, radiant joy.  I have learned so much, about myself, about writing, about creativity and resilience, patience and persistence, about gardens and magic and storytellers all around the world.  I have made friends, laughed and cried with y’all, and been told my words lifted someone’s spirit, brought some small measure of beauty and peace into the world, made things a little brighter, for at least a little while.

And now I have tears in my eyes.  I can’t help it.  The creative journey is an amazing one.

I’ll probably write more about this journey past my huge creative block as I come to understand it more.  But for now, let’s stop all this serious stuff and get back to the happy happy joy joy part.

Aren’t blogaversaries supposed to be about celebration? And presents? Yes!  Never fear, I do have presents for you, who have been such an integral and lovely part of my journey.

First and foremost, you have my thanks.

You also have a chance to win free Beauty in your mailbox.

I haven’t said much about it here, but I now sell prints and canvases, postcards and cards of my work over at RedBubble.  (See the box in the sidebar.)  Yes, it enables me to earn a little money in return for the hours of artmaking I’ve put into this site, and yes, I am so appreciative of those of you who have purchased items from the shop, because our financial situation has not been the easiest row to hoe lately.

But originally, I did it all for the love of paper.  I once ran the Paperie at a famous art supply store, and I believe I might have landed the job when the manager asked why I wanted it exactly, and I clasped my hands together like Anne of Green Gables and waxed poetic about how much I adore good paper, and old-fashioned letter writing, and thank-you notes, and fine stationery.

I might also have mentioned how I have a collection of hundreds of postcards and how good-quality, cold-press watercolor paper makes me swoon.

How amazing is it, to be a stationery addict all your life and then to hold your very own designs in your hands?  It was a moment of awe for me.  I’ll be sending two lucky winners a packet of cards and postcards, hoping you feel at least a touch of that pleasure when you open your mailbox.   To enter your name into the random drawing for these gifts, just leave a comment on this post before midnight Eastern Standard Time (that’s the same as NYC, for those of you overseas) on Sunday, August 15th.

If you tweet or otherwise advertise this giveaway, you have my profound gratitude and the joy and satisfaction of serving as a connection point for potential like-minded spirits.  But I really want every reader to have an equal chance to win, so those actions will only be to your benefit karmically.

Now, even though I wish I could send you all a lovely gift in the mail, unfortunately that cannot happen, especially since I am relearning the joys of extreme thrift lately.

Thrift in spring.

Blooming in spring, the kind of thrift I actually prefer.

But still, I have managed to come up with a little something for everyone.  See that square button in the top of the sidebar labeled Soul Food?

Yes, that’s the one, with the pretty yellow flowers.

If you click it, you’ll find a selection of the best of the best of The Enchanted Earth & Victory Garden Redux (the first incarnation).  For each month, I have selected a post where I thought my words were inspired and shining, deep and rich with meaning.  I give them all to you again, with a full heart.

Namasté, y’all.

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Our DSL woes are hopefully (cross your fingers)  over now.  There was a short in the wire, and so even when it was “fixed” before, the problem kept recurring.   This house has been around a long time, and the wire may have been old or damaged somehow.

The repairman delicately suggested that it might have had a “rodent” nibbling on it under the house.  Knowing Leo’s predilection for small-animal destruction, though, I’m pretty certain we’d have long since been made aware of any resident rodent populations.

Anyway, that was weird.  Several days without internet access, which was just enough time to realize I spend too much time online now — and not enough on the regular, everyday writing.  It’s so funny when you realize I began a blog, and got into blog reading (and from there the whole online world), all as a result of wanting to build my writing confidence.  I was an extremely disciplined, but private writer, who churned out page after page for no one to read.

Now that I’ve gotten used to a regular audience, my daily writing discipline has evaporated.  Can I have both?  Probably.  But in moderation.

On Wednesday, I finished up the last of the freelance work in my backlog, so that there was neither internet access nor day job to keep me busy.  I suddenly had huge swathes of time at my disposal.  My pace slowed way down, and I had more of those deep, contemplative moments that make life so rich and deep and beautiful.

Anything I’d wanted to do, but put off because I didn’t have time, I now could do it.  Paradoxically, I found myself choosing to do nothing most often.  Or rather, the things I was doing weren’t the kind of things you could check off on a to-do list.

Stare at the wind ruffling the trees.  Stand still at the kitchen window with the light off, just long enough to convince the shy goldfinch, now wearing his sun-bright mating plumage, that all is truly safe for a visit to the feeder.  Have a nap while the soft music of the rain comes in through the open windows.  Take a walk up the hill to photograph the towers of cumulonimbus clouds as a backdrop for the unfurling new growth of kudzu.

Cuddle the purring cats for far longer than usual.

Eat sugar snap peas barefoot in the kitchen garden, with the sun shining down hot, directly on the top of my head.  Snap a picture to remember the moment by:  two developing young peas, growing like crossed swords.

Of course, life does continue.  There are dishes to be washed, errands to be run, and F.’s studies are ongoing.  A new batch of work will be arriving at the end of this week, so this idyllic freedom is just an intermission. Still, I think it has held some important lessons for me in my year of focus.  At the very least, week 20 has shown me exactly where the majority of my time is spent.  This information is crucial for reevaluating one’s schedule and priorities.

Not that I did anything so constructive.  Yet.  Maybe that’s for week 21.

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