Sunday, April 27, 2008

Mothers Day Gift

On Mothers Day fourteen years ago I was given a tree sort of looked like a long branch, it was a Kwanzan Cherry tree. I had wanted one since I had first seen it in bloom in the town of St James, during a parade. I stood under this tree that held its heavy pink blooms on branches that outstretched over the road. It was magnificent!

I told my family that I would like to get that type of tree and they gave it to me for Mothers Day. A small branch that I knew would grow and share it’s beauty like the tree I had once stood under. Well it’s not as big yet as the one that I stood under, but my tree is still growing, and I look forward to seeing it bloom each year.

However brief a bloom may last, its beauty stays with us for a lifetime, forever fragrant in our minds.
Lu Lu Borealis

Monday, April 21, 2008

For Every Season

I am enchanted by the return of Spring; I am watching the seeds that my son planted breaking through the soil. The small vegetable garden is coming to life, and we wait in anticipation of the fruit that it will bring forth eventually. With each week you can see the growth of the plants change significantly.

In a sad way it reminds me of how quickly our children grow, I remember stooping down to wipe ice cream off my sons check. Now I look up at him and have to stand on my toes just to kiss his check. Watching his large hand plant those tiny seeds in the ground, the hands that were so small that use to fit inside mine, make me think about time.

Everything has it time, how does the saying go “A time to live, a time to die”, I know the plants that he planted, will grow, give fruit, wither back and eventually die. Humans have a choice in how they choose to live; they grow, give life and then they have a second choice of growth and what they want to be. That is the season I am at, I have a new growth a gained wisdom and I am free to do with it what I want. Oh I still have the everyday responsibilities, but I have grown into a new stage of freedom in my life.

I have my creative mind available to me, to write, make jewelry, scrapbook or I can if I choose to, sit at this window and stare out and wonder at nature, and all the things that renews life in the spring, while I contemplate on what I want to do my life.

I gather my thoughts and my memories and smile at all the gifts I was given, and wonder what gifts I will give back now that I have time.
LuLu Borealis

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Spring has Started To Bloom

The buds are growing on the trees, some have already flowered others wait a little longer. It seems when one thing blooms another sits back and awaits its turn. Each has its own special time, each has its peak time, unfolding before us a display one right after the other. All of which is natures art, a way of painting earth's palette.

Our senses tingle as we become awakened by the life that is blooming all around us. Something inside us awakens too, in a more subtle way; it renews a purpose in our soul, an energy that makes us take a different look at things. It could be just our spirit pulling in the light to stimulate our awareness out of hibernation.

Spring has a way of waking up something in our soul that which we didn’t know was asleep.
Lu Lu Borealis

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

In Memory of a Beloved Pet

In Memory of Buddy Benson (Beloved family pet for fifteen years)

For fifteen years Buddy was in our lives, and on Easter Buddy passed away. He will be missed by all those who loved him. Below is a poem I wrote dedicated to my daughter who loved and raised Buddy from a puppy. Missy shared with him all her secrets, and he knew of all her heartaches, but most of all they enjoyed life together...

In Loving Memory for Buddy Benson

It is in your memory where I live now, as I run through greener pastures,

But I am always here to share with you all of life’s disasters.

Although you can not see me I remain always at your side,

To listen when you’re troubled, I know every time you cried.

I was loyal to you my master, but I could stay no more,

Though there is a wall between us, there is a crack, an open door.

And I enter like a gentle breeze, that will touch you every day,

So you can see my master, I never went away.

L. A. Hardt