Tuesday, July 29, 2014

Day 17,828 Gratitude: Second Chances

I traveled to Taos in June with the sweetest little handmade journal. I had high desert daydreams about all that I would capture in pen, pencil and paint upon its hand-folded Fabriano pages. Despite big plans, best intentions and the embarrassing fact that I was there for a sketchbook journaling workshop, I only drew three times in that wee book. By "in that wee book," I mean "total." Three sketches. The whole trip.

Granted, I wasn't there for the purpose of filling my own journal but rather in a support capacity to the students, their teacher and the workshop as a whole. The days were lengthy, luscious and active. All that caught my eye imprinted itself upon my memory rather than within the pages of my book. Treasured all the same, but now, with time, harder to retrieve.

But I'm going back.

The last of the reservations were made today for my next visit to Taos in late October. I'm pinching myself at the prospect of introducing a dear friend to this heart home of mine. She has no idea that conditions are favorable for having her soul furniture rearranged. Our four full days there will be spacious with no firm plans but to savor. So I am taking the liberty of tucking this journal back into my travel bag, because I believe in second chances. (And, for the record, second chances for second chances, as may be required.)

For all of this, I am so deeply grateful.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Day 17,827 Gratitude: Perennially Forgotten

Every year, these flowers triumphantly emerge against the back of the house in a long-neglected plot that the previous homeowners had surrendered to mint. This particular patch of earth gets warmed by the morning to early afternoon sun and then agitated by the rumbling heat pump condenser once the AC wins. This is a spot where the dog is prone to sniff and pee. It doesn't register to me as a point on our property inclined toward overt beauty. I always forget. I forget that these flowers will make their fleeting but showy reappearance when July feels wearying and other perennials have opted to fade. They serve to remind me that there is no such thing as a lost cause. Miracles can arise at the oddest times and in the strangest places. For this truth and the reminder of it, I am so grateful.