Early Spring In Our
Garden — observed from our windows and doors.
Since this blog is
called, “Writing For Joy,” it might be thought that , since I have written
nothing here for about six months, there has been little joy in my life!
However, I do have other blogs and my wordpress ‘Wrinkly Writers’ blog has
gained more attention from my ‘pen’ lately. During this last six months I have
reached the age of eighty and we have also celebrated our sixty years of
marriage. PLUS we are now blessed with a great-grandchild. And on Boxing Day we
actually had our immediate family altogether in one place — here! This is rare
as my eldest son works on an oil rigg half his time.
The problem of getting
family together for celebrations became clear when we celebrated our Diamond
Wedding (Spring Day). We have had
four mini-celebrations. Four of our grandchildren had been unable to get to any
of them. So I guess we will take them out for a meal one by one the next time
they visit. Such is the scattering of family these days.
There has been sadness
too with the death of a childhood friend. Sadness is an inevitable part of life
the older you get and outlive ones you love or simply admire. But joy comes
when the clouds break and the sunshine of the joy of living breaks through once
more.
Now, after all the
snow, rain and cold weather, spring has truly arrived. Flowers burst from their
buds and open their petals to the warmth of the sun. The buzzing of bees work
their magic of producing honey and fertilizing growing crops. Nature’s healing
is taking place. More cause for celebration!
These are photographs
taken of our garden. The shrubs are just beginning to blossom and it will go on
throughout the year. I have no jewelry or gold (except my wedding ring and a
locket my hubby gave me 60 years ago), Loved ones and my garden are more
precious than gold and silver, and jewelry that has to be hidden from thieves.
Other things too still
give me much pleasure. Holding in my hand the first book I had in print (When
Phones Were Immobile and Lived in RED BOXES.) Then the novels. A word of
appreciation, either spoken or written, of my literary efforts. And little
things…
