Sunday, February 16, 2014
Monday, February 18, 2013
I moved...
I have moved my blog, sketchesofmyday, to a website - just in case you want to know :) my new address is : www.pamshensky.com
Friday, February 15, 2013
sometimes there are clouds
And so…yesterday was a myriad of feelings. I had some news
that I worried tremendously about and then worked through and amongst that
darkness, I had some wonderful news. I, like most mothers do, hung onto the
worry and hardly recognized the good. By the end of the evening, the worry was
soothed and this morning I can focus on the good. It seems, for me, the clouds
shield the sun, the clouds always "win" – I am not happy to admit that about myself and that is the
complete reason for this blog…to express the small things that are good, to
constantly remind myself to notice and celebrate the little things – for they
are the fabric. I haven’t much time this morning and I feel a bit depleted from
the night, but I did want to post a picture of a wonderful gift from my
neighbor across the street – a purple cabbage and turnips. This is the stuff
that “takes me there”. Hope your day is well spent and I hope you live in
appreciation of everyone in it.
I'm thinking smoothered onions and turnips and a cole slaw with purple cabbage and green apples? I cannot wait until I have hours to spend in a garden, but in the meantime, I am so lucky to have these neighbors.
b u
p s
Tuesday, February 12, 2013
between winter and spring
I had so
many messages about my last post on the “empty nest” – just says how we, as
mothers/parents, all feel so deeply and universally about our children; we all feel the heart tug of letting go. I did these funny angels to remember these times…
I love this little pocket of holidays –
beginning with Ground Hogs Day, then Mardi Gras (for all of us in South
Louisiana) next to Valentine’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day and culminating with
Easter and Passover – so quaint and simple. And then, the first day of spring
is in there somewhere. The weather is still unsettled and some days we must
stay inside to rummage through our houses, sorting, finding, doing, and some
days give us sunshine and we go in our yards to check the buds on fruit trees
and move away the leaves to see what might be peeking beneath. I watch the
small birds that are visiting in the side yard under my kitchen window, the
ones that seem to make the ground move as they do. I wait for the robins to
come from the woods and to see a lone honey bee in the sparse clover – it’s the
cusp, a place between winter and spring, a place to watch how Nature moves so beautifully from one season into the other.
I
look for the signs of spring while holding on to the quietness of winter, quiet
here in south Louisiana anyway. I need
more time in the winter. I want to write more and paint more, when spring
arrives, I am outside putting together some sort of garden. I am so pathetic
then, no discipline to stay inside.
It seems there is a conflict as to when
spring will arrive according to the Almanac: “As you may have heard,
Punxsutawney Phil, arguably the most famous prognosticating groundhog in the
United States, did not see his shadow this weekend, which means spring is
supposed to come a bit early this year. Of course, as we reported last month,
we’re not expecting an early spring. So, now the race is on to find out who is
right, the Almanac or the rodent.”
I
also feel happier looking at some still lifes in my friend, Tere’s early spring
yard – so beautiful and so promising. Some people use paints to cover a blank canvas,
she uses flowers…
and my favorite...
b u
p s
Sunday, February 10, 2013
windchimes and dreams
And so I did
this one important thing yesterday, I planted a Bradford pear in the middle of
a field amongst the other hopefuls. I see this as a confirmation that I will be
here yet another season to watch it grow and years later to pick the fruit and, in that August watch the
chickens enjoy the overly ripe pears that have fallen from the tree when I have
had my fill and have given away and dehydrated until I’m done. I will watch
with delight as I let them out of their coop and they run and waddle to the space
beneath the tree where they are so satisfied and happy. They will pay me again
with the eggs they lay, the eggs that have become part of the tree that is part
of the ground that is part of the Bradford Pear I planted today!
 |
| a water break |
It is
Sunday morning now and my sleep was crowded with images and dreams. I woke to the clinking
of wind chimes right outside of my window instead of the harshness of the alarm,
but even with this lovely awakening, I feel somewhat downhearted from my dreams.
They were not bad dreams but they were imaginings of my life – mostly of me and
Elizabeth.
She was little, something I always thought she would be and we were
here in the middle of a summer day or a week end and I said, “let’s ride over
to …”and we got in the car, she with her pigtails and missing front teeth and
me with my youth and a day to enjoy and we went on an adventure. On the way, I held
her tiny hand as I drove – something I always did and we listened to the
Beatles, something we always did, and we did “something”. I didn’t recall what
we did in my dream, for that was not the importance, the importance was that we
“did”, that she has been my little friend, my little companion for 18 years and
soon she will be someone I rarely see. 
It is not nearly June, not nearly
graduation and my heart is already tender. These children, these changes – they
take your heart, they make you grow, and then they become these wonderful
people that find their own lives – just as they should, just as we want. But, I
think every mother reading this knows they all still have little hands to hold.
miss u
p s
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