Behind my daughter’s apartment complex is a field.
Once upon a time, it was most certainly part of narure’s Great Hardwood Forest; later most likely a farmer’s corn field. Eventually, this place will probably be developed into some kind of space for suburban living.
But for now, it’s nothing more or less than a field. Butterflies flit among the grasses and. birds swoop just above them. Rabbits may run in the longer bits of grass, and deer come out of the nearby woods at dawn and dusk to graze.
Gracie loves this field. We took her there multiple times each day and every time, she leaped and pranced and strutted with delight.
And it makes me happy that I can make her happy with such a simple thing as a field.
And then there?S this girl who promises to never sail away.
Today the third of my four baby birds flew out of the nest.
This time it?S my first-born who is moving out. I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that she?S moving just a few miles away; with my third-born in Asia and my second across the country in Ohio, it?S a new experience for me to have a daughter living close by.
And while I tell myself that this is not a monumental life change, I can’t deny that my nest is down to just one fledgling - and the fact that she’s currently vacationing in Seoul means that for the next six days, this nest is altogether empty.
But here?S something I have realized. My home is not an empty nest, abandoned and devoid of any future purpose.
My three daughters go out into the world not as birds but as sailing ships, plotting their own courses and bending the winds to their purposes.
This house - my house, our house - is a safe port in a storm, an anchor to which they can always return for security, serenity, and a safe place to rest.
And I am not a mother bird who pushes out her brood and then flies off to an unknown future. I am a harbor master, an anchor. My job is to stand ready, strong and steady, keeping my heart and my home as a safe haven for my adventuresome daughters.
Look, here's the truth, when your kids move out of the house, emotions run wild.
And rather than drowning in a sea of bittersweet tears, I am determined to forge ahead into a beautiful new season of life.
I quickly realized that the epicenter of my sadness was my older daughters' now-empty bedroom.
Well. The room wasn't completely deserted. Left behind was a hodgepodge of unwanted furniture, bare walls, and cast-off belongings that did not make the cut to be packed up and moved out.
My challenge is to keep those old things in place while inviting the winds of change to transform this room into something beautiful and new. Here's what I've accomplished in a week.
^ First, new lamps. Dark rooms are depressing rooms and neither Siruis nor I are down with that.
^ New pillows. Gracie takes them for a test drive. She approves.
^ New plants and sheepskin rugs. Check and check.
^ I found this watercolor cactus at IKEA over the summer; and it spoke to me. I didn't know it at the time, but it was announcing its intention to serve as the inspiration for this makeover.
And this sturdy old student desk has announced its willingness to be upgraded from childhood to a chic and stylish new purpose that has yet to be envisioned. The base of the ancient black lamp, just so you know, still bears the outlines of some glow-in-the-dark star stickers.
^ A mash up of old things and new things breathe a hint of life into the trusty old Expedit.
And while I work through these changes and imagine how to shape this room for the future, Luna and Gracie nap in a comfortable heap on my bed. They remind me that when I'm willing to embrace the winds of change, anything is possible.
^ Fresh mulch has been laid. And resulting splinters have been pulled.
^ The furniture cushions have been pulled though they are still at close hand in the garage for any remaining warm and sunny afternoons.
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^ The fall bloomers are enjoying their slow and steady fade.
These are the ways you can be sure that autumn in settling into my garden. What with all my unexpected travel this summer, I fell far behind in my usual gardening chores. But now, in October, I'm making up for lost time and finally content in my autumn garden
^ A pair of pumpkins adorn Gracie's dinner table and she shares my satisfaction with the season.
In winter, when the extravagances of Christmas have all been spent and spring is still a good long way off, I often need a breath of fresh air.
There is nothing like a parade of fresh-faced succulents, in all their sweet geometric precision and tender green perfection, to cleanse my spirits and set me right again.
I don't need to buy them. It's enough just to rest my eyes on their humble, hopeful selves, and I'm ready to march on.
* * * * *
I wrote this snippet months ago but, for reasons unknown to me now, filed it away as a draft and forgot all about it till I stumbled upon it today.
Winter is long gone. Spring and summer too. Autumn is in full swing and we are mid-way through October.
And while my original thoughts still ring true, I would add now that there is no time of year - no season, no frame of mind - that is not enhanced by a tidy row of leafy geometric perfection.
The simple truth is that succulents make me happy every single day of the year.
* * * * *
In my opinion, you can never have too many succulents, and you can never have too many stories about succulents. Here are a few to choose from:
Small enough to fit into the palm of my hand, and colored much softer than the photo appears,
if this pot had a name, I would call it Amy.
This seventies flashback is now a fast-forward.
Recently, I've been thinking about the amazing ceramic hanging pots I collected back in the seventies. Back in the day when street art fairs were a new phenomenon, my mom and I would head into
Ann Arbor on the last weekend of July each summer, and browse, among other things, the pottery shops. She bought serving dishes and platters, bowls and vases, but I bought mostly hanging plant pots.
I had quite a collection of them - probably eight or ten - and they not only hung in my bedroom during the second half of my childhood but also went to college with me, coming home in the trunk of the car for breaks and long weekends. When pottery plant holders fell from fashion in the ruthless days of the eighties, I boxed them up for safekeeping and brought them along with the other mementos of my life, not knowing what else to do with them.
For a good twenty years, they lived in silence.
At some point after the new millennium, I pulled them out of the attic and brought them down to show my daughters a little bit about who I was before I became their mom. Enjoying their summery patio vibe, I hung them here and there around the yard, but that was a lethal mistake. All but one of my seventies pottery plant pots has since broken into irredeemable pieces.
So sad.
But the one that remains is my favorite. Small and delicate, this pot was thrown from a pale golden clay and colored with an almost-pastel turquoise translucent glaze. I used to keep it planted with baby's tears and it was precious to me.
Ever since the other planters were destroyed, my darling pot has been lying quietly in a safe, protected corner of the garage. The other day, I dug it out, restrung it with fresh hemp, planted it up with Irish moss, and hung it at my kitchen window.
This relic of my childhood is back in action, and the circular rhythms of life play on.
* * * * *
This song was popular during my freshman year at college
and it reminds me very much of my hanging pottery planter days.
When I was growing up, I loved to change my room around. I had a teeny tiny space all to myself with a bed, a small dresser, and a built-in desk and bookshelves. Doesn't sound like much to swap around but it was amazing how many different iterations I could find. Each rearrangement made me feel like I was living in a whole new space, and I loved the feelings of freshness and freedom that came with each change.
* * * * *
Fast forward quite a few years and my bedroom now is considerably bigger, with several more pieces of furniture. But interestingly, I rarely rearrange the furniture. Everything has kinda worked its way into its logical place, and I don't want to disrupt the self-settled feng shui.
Instead, I entertain myself by rearranging the accessories.
Plants
Candles
Books
Paintings
Bits and bobs
I subscribe to the theory that as long as you gather together things that you truly love, no matter how diverse or mismatched, they will all reflect you own sense of style and therefore work in harmony.
So with respect to that mindset of chaos and change, allow me to present the latest version of my room.
^ Art by me, spheres by Hobby Lobby. I don't know why but geometric shapes make my brain happy.
^ Bought this table at least five years ago from Target; replaced the plastic top with a plywood circle and spray-painted the base.
^ True confession: as much as I love hanging plants, I am super uptight about drilling holes in my ceilings to install the hooks. I am (somewhat) okay with holes in my walls, but imperfect ceilings freak me out. That's silly. I'm working past it.
^ The chair was from IKEA ages ago and my cats love to sleep on the back of it in the afternoon sun.
^ I like to look down on my green things. Pink bowl from Target, terrarium from Hobby Lobby.
^ This pathos is just a few years old and already he has mastered the art of the spill. Love those cascading leaves.
^ Black and white photos from my Instagram feed in the iconic square IKEA Ribba, a Mexican blanket from Gunn & Swain, another wire Target table hacked with a wooden top and some spray paint, and my diffusing station.
* * * * *
Now, if you don't mind me saying so, I will tell you the whole truth. These snapshots capture the state of my bedroom about a year ago. And today, while the basic elements are still in place, most of the details have been swapped around yet again.
As for me, I am still rolling with the changes.
P.S. Spring quarter of my freshman year of college, my amazing new boyfriend got tickets with his friends to go see REO. Sadly, he gbought them before he met me, so on the night of the show, there was nothing for me to do but send him off with a smile and wait out the miserable hours till he came back and told me all about it.
I think I learned an important lesson that night, something about rolling with whatever life sends me. But mostly, I just remember that amazing boy.
