A Little Bit of Magic

 

The Journey

Their home was a place of no expectations, unparticular in an ordinary way, and although she was soft in a way that made one want to protect her, it was not to her liking.
 
She mused about the simplicity of its existence, how it was void of anything that was remotely her.  She couldn’t stand it.  One might say she hated it, but her feelings were more complex than that.  It reaches back to a childhood where one lived in a home with unpainted walls, and incomplete flooring.

What followed was a journey into the trials and tribulations of a dream she embraced and one he found challenging to accept.  She removed wallpaper from the kitchen and dining room walls; wallpaper that didn’t want to be removed, so in the process she was then cumbered with the task of repairing the drywall, spackling and sanding, then two coats of thick latex paint.
 
It nearly killed her, or so she thought, when it took a month to recover from a sinus infection caused by not wearing the respirator she had no clue about.  She had, after all, followed what she remembered as a child watching her dad building onto their home, and it was so totally inadequate.

Sometime around six months later it was complete, including stenciling outlining the walls and ceiling.  It was a silent celebration for her amid her tiredness of a husband’s endless complaints of the inconvenience put upon him.

The refinishing of the rest of the interior of her home was squeezed into the quiet times of her days.  Since it was a period of time when she was unemployed, she agreed to do all the housework and yard work, although when he told her she earned no points for doing his laundry, she left the task as his.  Later when she found employment he left the housework and yard work as still hers.

 She added flowery drapes to the sliding glass doors of the dining room and it made her heaven complete.  Each time she walks into her pale moss green kitchen with its blue accents, she is transported back into the countryside she loves.
 
While It was always in her nature to stick with the job until finished, she did struggle with the vastness of it.  She never wanted to be thought of as anything but perfect in these endeavors; to leave a mark of professionalism, and she always did.

Sometime in all this living of hers, she managed to repair the walls of the foyer and hallway and paint them.  The fireplace was stenciled, as were the walls of the two bedrooms and writing room after they were repainted; soothing pale aqua for the bedrooms, and a very light Victorian pink for her writing room.

The creation and management of her wildlife garden while still tasked with all yard work and housework and meal preparation, while working an eight-hour job with two hours of drive time attached, and pet care… well, on one ordinary day of no significance she quietly reached her breaking point and let go of the dream.
 
The living room was left untouched, as was his bathroom.  The main bathroom, the one she called her own, still stands today as a memorial to that fateful day when she lost the will to forge on by herself.
    
Blistering paint on both sides of the door, one wall of removed wallpaper waiting to be spackled and sanded, a second wall waiting to be stripped of wallpaper, and a third wall painted a lovely color of “milk and sugar” she applied prior to her loss of faith and hope.
 
The time came when a bathtub was too difficult for her, and it was replaced by a Cadillac of a shower too deluxe for its shabby surroundings.  It reminds, like a bad joke, that her life is anything but perfect.

She's stuck in time, a prisoner in the void of not knowing what to do.  She reached for the stars, and over decades of hanging on for dear life, her star's blaze dimed and faded into oblivion.  The emptiness hangs around her like sinking into quick sand.
  
She's an old soul living in a modern world; a relic of time long passed.  She will, at some point in her remaining years, embrace the ground she stands upon, and leave the stars for the younger.  It's in her nature to find the extraordinary in any ordinary day, and her curiosity will always lead the way.
  
Her legacy is simple. She is the magic of life.  Wildflower meadows, deep conversations, raindrops on leaves, old books and soft music, autumn among hardwood trees, warm hugs and sweet kisses, sunrises in the desert, quiet mornings with tea, light beams through clouds, lightning bugs at sunset, full moon high up, ice rings around Saturn, swirl of a galaxy - they all live in her soul and her soul in them.

We stood in a garden...

Where kempt and unkempt kissed one another,

Where Red Ragged-Robins laughed at Rhododendrons...

    ~D.C.L.D., "In the Garden", Castalian Splashes

Long haired white caterpillar - Hyphantria cunea, I think.

Wild Bergamot (Monarda fistulosa) with Carpenter Bee

Allium vineale, commonly known as wild garlic

Some type of bowl shaped mushroom, maybe 4" wide.  

It grew up through the mulch and still has mulch on top.

Flatormenis proxima,

 known generally as the northern flatid planthopper 

or mealy flatid planthopper

Wild Bergamot, Monarda fistulosa, also called bee balm 

with Bumblebee and Carpenter Bees.

Yellow Garden Orbweaver, Arblope aurantia

I think the top spider is the male.

A moth has been caught in the web, 

and the female spider is wrapping it in the same silk

she produces to spin the web. 

Above her is another insect that had been caught earlier,

wrapped in silk, and is being stored until she eats.

Brown-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia triloba)

Sweet Pepperbush (Clethra alnifolia)

Licorice fragrance

I think the bug is Plagiognathus arbustorum, a plant feeder, 

and a predator of small insects

Echinacea purpurea, Eastern Purple Coneflower

with a Leafcutter Bee, Megachile Latreille

carrying pollen on its abdomen.

Wild petunia, Ruellia humilis

 By the afternoon or early evening, 

the fused petals and attached stamens 

detach from the base of the flower.

 As the corolla tube slips off, it slides down 

the persistent style before dropping to the ground 

or getting caught in the calyx lobes.

I'm not sure, maybe a Lilium speciosum or a similar hybrid.

The Asilidae are a family in the order Diptera, the true flies,

also called Robber or Assassin Flies.

Phlox paniculata 'Jeana'

Hibiscus moscheutos, Swamp Rose Mallow

Ptilothrix bombiformis

Hibiscus Bee or Rose-mallow Bee

or

Bumblebee

They both look almost alike.

Wild petunia, Ruellia humilis

Hosta (Blue leaf type)

The two plants are now four 

and much larger with all the rain.

Yellow-collared scape moth (Cisseps fulvicollis)

Lucilia illustris is a metallic, shiny blow fly 

that visits flowers like bee balm (Monarda) to feed on nectar. 

While primarily known as scavengers, 

the adults require sugars for energy and females need protein 

(often from pollen) to mature their eggs.

This late morning has been full of robin chatter among the heat that is on the verge of becoming stifling hot.  Lounging on the deck has become a peaceful way to pause from the drudgery of life and enjoy the small moments that all too frequently become overlooked.

It is a space of occasional small flies and black mosquitos, so I do not want for company.  Afternoon thunderstorms never disappoint by skipping a day, and that has created a luxuriance of wildness bordering on chaotic in the garden.

I’m looking at Issue 17 of bella GRACE FIELD GUIDE to Everyday Magic.  Upon the receipt of this issue, I was let down by so many prompts wanting pen to paper answers.  It’s not a magazine I normally would purchase, yet here I am with my very own copy.  It is quite thick on sturdy paper and I have torn out parts of pages, ear marked lots of pages, and abused it quite liberally, although I rarely write in it.  So, even if not as intended, I do get much use out of it.

The permission slip for ordinary magic suggests side effects may be softer days, and an increased appreciation for ordinary moments.  So I will be a Keeper of Small Wonders.  My path is set but being a person whose mind runs wild with over thinking and self-doubt, I promise nothing.

Slowing down my mind is like trying to stop an avalanche in mid descent.  As I become a bit more mindful, I have noticed that I’m a pistachio binge eater.  I trust you didn’t laugh at the frivolousness of thinking about a little nut.

It’s a big deal if one finds themselves eating what is considered eighteen servings, all in one afternoon.  I shell and pop those little nuggets of goodness into my mouth, one on top of the other, until I am chewing six of them in all stages of doneness before swallowing.

Pistachios are now reserved for quality time breaks: eyes resting, soft music in the background, Austin snuggled onto my lap, and one pistachio out of the bag, shelled, and into my mouth.  It’s a savored moment enjoying the texture and taste while I am in my quiet place dancing through wildflower meadows towards the sound of a babbling brook.  I could stay here forever.

You might have guessed, that by now, I am no longer outside, as it seems to have become Satan’s furnace in all its glory.  I’ve included this AI Overview, as even though I have used the term since youth, it seems I did not actually understand what was happening.

Rolling thunder refers to a continuous, deep, and rumbling sound rather than a single explosive crack. It happens when lightning strikes over a long distance, and atmospheric echoes or "temperature inversions" trap the sound waves and bounce them back and forth between the ground and the sky.

Sounds exciting doesn’t it.  These fascinating storms must be respected, for they are a powerful force of nature.  In my Reno, Nevada days, I would stand at the double window in my bedroom and watch the thunderstorms come over the mountain tops and down into town.  The lightening show was more  spectacular than any fireworks could be.

I’ll end this lighthearted writing, sending good vibes and warm thoughts your way while I sit in my cozy arm chair that loves me so much and enjoy the rolling rumbles of thunder as yet another storm approaches.  Stay cozy and give yourself permission to savor the small wonders all around you in life.

My bit of magic ~

Charlotte and Austin

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