The Magical Stardust of Thankfulness

Every day, spread the magical stardust of thankfulness into your life.

 ~Terri Guillemets

I sometimes feel as if we are in the dressing room of Autumn as she disrobes her fiery finery to put on something more relaxing for winter.  If she wants to remember once more what elegance feels like, the snow begins to fall with all the magic of a multitude of star struck prisms.

How sad that in all this finery or lack of finery with just layer upon layer of frozen crystals, she transcends, only to descend once more when sun rays warm her.  Her calming fairy tale magic takes a nosedive into a dreadful Brothers Grimm fairy tale full of mud, frostbite and chopped off toesies.

“Expectation is the thief of joy.” If we leave expectations out of the equation, then we leave even snowless days full of possibilities.

And here I am, looking for possibilities as each day’s temperature may be flirting with the end of summer or cozying up to the beginning of winter.

The cats are fed and I am cozying up to my laptop wondering how my gratitude really rates on the scale of life.  Gratitude is a deeper, more profound state of being than thankfulness, that involves a lasting attitude of appreciation for life's circumstances and the people in it.

I seldom think of gratitude, or for what I am thankful for.  Striving to live a positive life is a full time job for me.  Not living under the best of circumstances creates a heavy load in that department, but I always refocus back to the possibilities in my life.  One has to or the fingers of depression begin to work their damage.

I think the most memorable moment in my life of happiness was when I was young, maybe 25 years old, way before I began to drag all that garbage of my past around with me instead of letting go.  My handle was ‘Juliet’, for when I used my husbands CB radio, which was rarely ever.

I was home and my youngest sister was with me when a trucker called on his radio asking if anyone was out there, as he was passing through town.  Since no one answered, I answered back without a clue as to what I would be saying next.  We jokingly hinted he could stop by and take a short break.  He took us up on the offer and soon a large semi-truck was parked along the front side of my yard.

We all hung out by the semi-truck talking for about half an hour, before he said he should be going, but we had been laughing and having so much fun.  He enjoyed the visit so much that he opened the back of the trailer and took out one of the many boxes of Red Delicious apples he was hauling from Washington state down through Nevada, which is where we were living, and gave it to me.

We were shocked but happy and thankful for the gift.  I have to say this is the most pleasant memory that ever comes to mind all these years later.  Those apples were so crisp and juicy, a reward just because we were ourselves, being outgoing and welcoming with a stranger of the CB radio world.

It is said that one never understands all the simple pleasures that we could be grateful for, but for much of the time we just assume it will always be there.  It takes loosing those privileges to wake us up to what we always take for granted and never even think of the gratefulness of it all.

Sometimes I would hear that expression of getting off the plane and kissing the ground expressing an overwhelming feeling of safety at the end of a perilous situation. It was my first thought when we flew back home from Panama, Central America.

When we entered the airport at Panama, it was extremely intimidating, full of armed Panamanian soldiers with rifles.  Being so obviously white and more likely assumed Americans, we had to be careful about the police, because being stopped by one always meant a bribe had to be paid to be allowed to continue our trip.  

There was a double price for groceries, one for Pannonians and one for the richer Americans, even though we weren't rich.  If you where American you were always assumed to be rich.  If you didn’t pay the guy who stepped out of the shadows to watch your parked car on the street when eating or shopping, on ones return it would be discovered the guy stole from your car, usually a tire or two.  

There was always tension in the air over the politics of the country, as dissatisfied students would riot on the streets, sometimes rolling a car over onto its roof and setting fire to it while the owner had to run away.  One never wanted to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.  If the military showed up in a fun place, it was best to quietly exit and go somewhere else.

We were never assigned a home on base, so we always lived out in the city of Panama, among the richer Panamanians.  Our rent was at least doubled,  which our government paid.  We felt safe there because it was a Panamanian lawyers house and apartments for his children within a walled yard.  

The third year, we were moved to an American owned street off base.   ‘Just Cause’ happened and we found ourselves sitting on the floor of our bedroom for part of the night, as mortars flew over our house to destroy a police station nearby, while poor bloodied Panamanians from that shelled area, filled our back yard and carport, and we rightly feared for our lives.

It was an exhilarating experience, but overall, eventually the fear of no safety and the lack of empathy towards us made it a living hell, one in which we always had a gun on the coffee table just in cause its use was necessary. 

For the first time in my life, when I got off that airline flying us home from Panama after four years, I felt like kissing that ground a hundred times, it was such a relief.

In The Garden

Front Yard with 

Monarda fistulosa, Wild Bergamot, around the sign post,

still green in November.

 

Heuchera americana

A type of American Ginger

Blackhaw Viburnum berries

Type of native clematis.

Seeds of Calico Aster with the yellow/green leaves of Oat Grass.

Coral Berry

Very prolific this year with more fruit than any other year.

Maybe Maple seedlings, maybe not.

American Dogwood leaves.

Pachysandra procumbens

Left side of Back Yard

Clethra alnifolia, summer sweet in center of photo,

behind it is a male Persimmon Tree,

to the right is an American Hornbeam,

To the front left is a short type of American Arborvitae

where it catches rain runoff from the pathways.

With a hint of Christmas

The Book Wreath

My Favorite

While the cool winds chill on a sunny day, and the rain is so pushy, never wanting to stay away; I seldom celebrate this month’s holiday, although I do celebrate husbands love for it, which I think centers around all that tasty food. 

With the apple picking just about done for, and winter nipping at our toes, may your days be bright with possibilities and your soul warmed with the remembering of why life's a blessing and not a curse.

Thank you for stopping by and leaving a comment, if you wish.  You make my blog possible, and I do think if everyone disappeared, it would just melt away into the cosmos and be a lost memory ever so pleasant.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Always with love,

     ~Yvonne 

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