In the dead of winter. A gift. A gift that popped into existence, two summers ago. A day when Cordelia lounged in the grapes ,September 2013, on a hot muggy, grapes hanging ripe and ready for wine. I grabbed my telephoto lens. Of course. Always nearby. And took a photo.
"Give freely to the world the gifts of love and compassion. Do not concern yourself with how much you receive.Just know in your heart it will be returned." (S. Mariboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free)
Two years later . Morgan pencilled it into existence in black and white. Capturing a moment. A gift. Supposed to be for Christmas. But even better on a grey, dank and dismal February day.
"Gifts are made for the pleasures of those who give them..." (C. Ruiz Zafon , Shadow of the Wind)
Two years later, it seems spring is springing. But I'm waiting for another cold snap. A bit of frost. A bit of ice. Maybe some snow. Like last year. This just seems too good to be true. But for now I have crocus poking up through new dirt. I contemplate covering it up with dirt. Make it wait for a few more weeks. But it will have none of that.Up it comes. Like little sentinels.
The rain drips. I decided it was time to get in the pros. The Lawn and Garden People.Possibly you've seen them. They carry shovels, pick axes and tarps. And buckets of dirt. Have been waiting all year to do this. Got them to dig and delve. Another gift. What would have taken me forever, took them one hour and two minutes. I timed them . Curious to see what four people could get accomplished. They were lightning.
The deer next door watched as well. The front hill never looked so good. I can hardly wait for them to do the back terraces; overgrown and stagnant with yuck . This is like a new hill. Idon't recognize it.Another gift. In the dead of winter. Well, this is winter for us. Sog and bog.
Two summers ago, Cordelia sat in the grapes. Purring. On a sept afternoon.
Two years later, she sits high on the fence,not by the grapes, since they are long asleep in the wet and chill. She still purrs, is still sweet. Still comes and visits. She's waiting as well, I think. For this muck and wet to be over. For the grapes to start growing again. So she can sit in the vines once again. And purr. Have her photo op. Again and again.
"What greater gift than to be in the presence of a cat. " (Charles Dickens)
Meanwhile, we wait with bated breath for the drips to stop dripping, the mud to stop oozing and the wind to stop howling. And another drawing to be created.
In black and white. Another gift.
"Our talents are the gift that God gave to us.What we make of our talents is our gift back to God. " (L. Buscaglia)
