Zinnia…
What a lovely thing it would be to be called by such a name.
Living where the trees allow waves of dappled sunlight to sneak in through fresh leaves.
Wooden wagon, tucked in where the desert meets the forest.
Hottest days of summer, lounging in the tree covered bath tub.
Fairy wings fluttering.
They love the zinnias you see.
Crowns of yellow petals right in the center.
Rusty paint and peeling wood.
Just a few of the things that make up your heart.
Rosemary scented air, so hot you can taste it in the warm breeze.
Petal tea pot.
The perfect vase.
And so many shades of blue, you're inspired to dance in a sea foam dream.
Where fairy tales are free for the taking…
Beckoning you to jump in.
It whispers…
Come here, come play.
Let your self out, be free.
Be endless in the swirls of monsoon storms, clouds crashing and cool rain quenching the earth.
Be in the moment.
These summer gypsy moments.
Of crimson petals, herbs, healing plants.
Could it be belladonna?
A white winged dove?
Put the needle on that record, as it crackles and turns.
Dove, a name so familiar as I've been called by someone for 17 years.
No matter that the winged version flock here to have endless babies, nest after nest full.
Right in the gypsy garden.
Where dreams gather and explode in lightning storms on the mountain.
Streaks of black sky with lavender and peach clouds billowing in flight.
Rapidly headed north, clouds filled with lightning bolts and claps of song.
This is right where we will be.
There may be shifts and shuffles.
People enter, people go, people return.
But one things stays the same on this lane of birds…
The dreamers, believers, fairy tale wanderers – never leave for very long.
Called back to the earth, to this place where time stands still.
Where change does not matter once you go through the overgrown arbor into the garden.
Where you can be true to you forever and ever and ever and ever.
Where life is looked upon as one long event, filled with all manner of happenings.
But never one cut and dry shift of good-bye or hello.
No not ever.
Not in this place of love and goodness.
You are free to morph your dreams into reality here, all you have to do is plunge.
But how, how do you plunge you ask?
How do you plunge back in when life has knocked you down, slapped you around, wrinkled your pink shiny cheeks and frowned your brow?
Since it's impossible to forget all we have been through, you just push it to the side and say, I'll talk to you later because right now I'm going to this wonderful place…
And then you jump….!
Put on your headphones.
Turn up the sound in your home.
And take some baby steps.
But first…
DANCE!
Because that is how it always begins in this land of dreamers and believers.
Smell the air.
Think of the you that is inside.
Full of fire and hope.
Remember that person?
Life is filled with choices.
What do you choose?
I choose to not worry about dumb things for today, I choose to feel the hot summer air on my skin, eat lots of popsicles, cut flowers, dream about what sort of thing I'd like to do next in life.
Walk through the woods.
Twirl in the rain.
All the things that lead me back to me.
To you.
To here.
To now.
To living.
Laughing.
Loving.
And always dreaming.
That's where all the possibilities live, don't they?
xoxoxo
Dreaming is what I spend 95% of my life doing. I don’t seem to have the making them happen umph though, at least, not yet. Sending lots of love and hugs! xoxoxo
love & blessings
~*~
ps…hugs & kisses to Matty and Miles!
Heavenly!
Why do all of your blog posts make me stop and think* I adore your writing
I choose (Happy) every day*
so off I go to the garden before it gets too hot. 6am is like magic out there*
deezie
so happy to have you back, to look and find posts.You where very missed.
My new garden has a place for fairies, elves, and trolls. My grandson helped me build a cave for trolls yesterday. He thinks I’m like a kid, and indeed I feel like I’m ten years old.
Thank you for the reminder to stop, sit, and enjoy. I love how you share your precious insights about living and life.
Is the white winged dove singing a song, sounds like she’s singing oh baby oh said oh? 🙂 (Oh white witch nicks you will always be in my heart). Anyhoo, yes. To all of this yes. It is good to have that place, life-giving for some really, where your dreams live and the you is you as you see you in your mind; four years old and in your favorite dress, eating ice cream cones and skipping rope, or you with flowy hair and deep green eyes, floating along in a current of energy, like a ray of light or sun…..Some people they have to go inside, close their eyes, conjure up the dream, the vision, the smell. Ah but you! Veevala dahling you have an actual physical space, tooooo, so magical!
We moved around a lot when I was a kid, but I am a magical thinker-dreamer-unicorn, so I carry that space inside, mostly; but it is usually best and most easily conjured up when I’m staring at wisteria vines, draping and dripping off the fence, or a particularly amazing deep green leafed tree and dappled sun combo, or bunnies-in-a-blue-cloud-sky, or daytime-turns-night rainstorm.
Don’t I feel younger when i come out of that reverie!
This is a good good post.
I am glad you are back too. <3
I am so grateful I stumbled upon your blog a few years back. You make so much sense out of life. Mr. Lovee is quite a special person in your life, I can certainly gather. I adore you both of you. xoxoxo Jen
I am so glad I stumbled upon your blog a few years back. Your words make so much sense out of life. Mr. Lovee is such a special person in your life, I can certainly gather. Have a great weekend V. xo Jen
Every summer has a story and Gypsy Zinnia Summer sounds like a title I can sink into and spend time in.
You write with a poet’s heart and your photographs drift me away to a time that is tucked in my memory.
Thank you for the beauty and mystery you give us here.
May you dance to the tambourine in the moonlight*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*