Amarillo is not just a city in Texas

Pronounced Am Uh Ree jYo, it is the color yellow in Spanish. I know this because I am working through the introductory pages of a Pre-K workbook of starter Spanish. I purchased the school book to work with my granddaughters when they came to stay with me at the first stages of isolation, school closings. My oldest is in the Spanish-immersion Kindergarten program in town, and I figured it would be a fun activity together to keep pace with her learning until this thing blew over. As it turns out, this thing didn’t blow over, and is most likely just getting started. The girls returned to their parents care and will not be coming back to me any time soon, as we maintain our distances…and I have an empty, unopened workbook. I figured, what the heck, broke out the crayons and started working my way through chapter one, colors.

Today’s color is amarillo, and as I look out the window and walk through the gardens, amarillo is busting out in pops and dots all around. Forsythia, daffodils, and the pollen of the crocus, all heralding the arrival of a new season, without reserve or isolation. During times of setback and adjustment, I take comfort in the trustworthiness of the seasonal cycles. The pollinators are on their way, some have already opened the doors of their winter homes. There are no restrictions on breathing fresh air or digging in the dirt or going for a stroll. No warnings to put your clippers down, so snip some daffodil stems and forsythia branches and bring some amarillo sunshine indoors.

RECIPE FOR TODAY: cutflower bouquet

Forsythia branch to force

Magnolia branch to force

Yucca leaves

Arrange in a large vase filled with water. I like to curl the yucca leaves under like ribbon candy. But play as you will, and have fun.

Adrift.

I feel relatively uninspired. The nations are restricting us people to our homebases to thwart the advances of Covid19, a global pandemic. During this isolation, the creativity of most is surfacing, embracing a new ration of time and space, an opportunity to paint, draw, laugh, dance, learn, write. It is a wonderful consequence. But me, I feel relatively uninspired, like a leaf being carried downstream atop a babbling brook, with twists and turns and the occasional obstruction of a fallen branch or outcropped rock to redirect or halt its course. It just “is”, adrift on something with power and force and direction, something other than itself. Yea, so that’s me, starting a blog, aimless and dependent on the flow of Him who carries me.

It’s not that I don’t have stories to tell…believe me, I do. Perhaps my pencil will reveal them in time. During days of uncertainty, the globe is literally being held captive by a novel coronavirus that has no cure and a contagious traffic pattern. In an effort to slow the commute to the ICU, many governments, the United States included, have restricted citizens to activity outside the home that is essential only. “Essential” may prove to be a big word down the road as mental health and financial well-being may enter the essential category to those healthy in body, but weakened in other aspects of being. I’m no expert, a mere leaf, remember; but I am curious how diverse the implications will be.

I became leaf-like, a floater, when my world changed dramatically not too long ago…though it feels like ancient history. Once self-directed and driven, now living quite simply with little anxiety and care, I don’t know how the transformation happened; perhaps clarity will come as I write more of the story. Since I am journaling as Suzy Sparkleberry, stepping back into her story, she begins here with a shovel, dirt overturned, and the sighting of her/my first earthworms of the season…perhaps making love and disturbed by my blade. My joy in seeing them wriggle brought me hope for a new season. Perhaps I disturbed their escape from an intruding outside world. Perspective, ah, perspective. So there I was pruning roses and giving their roots some homemade compost to break their fast. The forsythia are swelling, so the roses are expecting some attention. While I was sprinkling their driplines with an appetizer, the earthworms squirmed and tangled, and went back under the covers.

Other return visitors thus far have been the crocus, daffodils - the early ones, and hyacinth just getting started. I’ve raked out the tangled pachysandra and given a spring haircut to the perennials. The Easter grass is growing in baskets awaiting Resurrection Sunday when we may be forbidden to hunt. But we’ll have to see.

This week is a gray one, early spring rains. When the sun comes out, we will all shout hallelujah to welcome the joyous Spring landscape. Enjoy your new ration of time and space. I hope you are able to expend some of your newfound energy in the outdoors.

RECIPE for the week:

Rake beds on a dry day

Cut back perennials that have wintered in the garden

Prune roses and berries, compost the driplines

Cut stems of flowers getting ready to pop…enjoy in a vase indoors.

Take a good look, pause awhile