after the fugly went away...

Today I worked at the garden shop and it was peaceful. The fuglies went away after a long bout of writing, then work, then house cleaning. Actually, I think it was last night's sleep that really did the trick. The fuglies have been banished.

Vinny took this photo of me a couple weeks ago. It was my first day back at the garden shop and he stopped by after going out on a photo-shoot. I had just gotten over the flu the day before and had been shoveling all morning. I look like crap--but I kinda like this photo anyway because it captures some of the quiet and peacefulness of being surrounded by plants and garden things. When planting season comes, it won't be so quiet. But, for now, I am drinking it in.

Today I worked with the doors open. It has been strangely warm and muggy out all day. Steam rises off of the snow. How is that possible? I hauled trellises, chipped ice, watered plants. When it started to rain, I read a little bit from my book. The mist and spring smells floated through the store along with a few customers, too.

I wrote a post on the Finding Water blog and so, in answer to my own questions...

What brings me peace?
bird song, the sound of wind in pine trees, snow, the smell of my dog's fur (she smells like hay), my cats playing, candles, the sound of the creek, walking, Vinny's touch.

Where does God live for me?
in nature, in the colors of the sky, in writing. God lives in all those tiny moments that bring me peace.

What do I love?
when my husband plays the piano, the sound of Anu's wolfie voice, cat snuggles, my books, the sound of coffee brewing, a clean house, sunshine coming in through the windows, the smell of fresh laundry, blogging, afternoon naps, the night sky thick with stars.

What am I grateful for?
the forest across the street even though I live in a big city, my health, my travels, memory.

How do I escape the dull-drum fuglies?
writing, painting, cleaning, walking, good food, sleep.

What part of my life and my Self could use a little more compassion?
my thesis. my body.

Where does my "true north" point to?
teaching writing.

What about you??