With the smoke in my eyes
This morning found me in my easy chair clicking buttons on my phone looking for a classic book read. Now as I sit in mhy office with the books hugging me, I realize how much I missed reading and rereading these classic pages. The voices might not always sound as pleasant as listening to the one in my head, but it really was time to find a good quick read again.
“As A Man Thinketh” along with “Tongue the Creative Force” are probably my two most read books in my library. There are other books that inspired me, but these two anchor me and act as homing devices for my thought patterns. Then there are the classic reads…
But I do not want to do a book review at the moment. I simply want to journal the happenings of the past two weeks.
We made it up to the log home show two weekends ago. Perhaps it could be called a dream quest. We met with people from the industry and had positive interactions with one company in particular. We have some work to do on our part before the dream can be realized. More think tank date nights with focused dreaming will have to be accomplished. And the calendar of events set up. Only time will tell if this dream is part of God’s plan for our lives.
The biggest blessing was a visit with old friends in the town where we lived during the early years of our marriage. Our children were born in those days and it was fun to make them guess what house was in the picture that I sent to them. They were jealous of the visit to our good friends.
Then, time simply slipped away from me. Four or five blogs written and trashed. I struggled to tie up my thought life. It seemed as though the smoke in my eyes, entered my brain also.
Having smoke blurred vision is difficult when no matter which way one turns the smoke seems to follow. The past weekend we finally burned up that old pile of dead branches and such. But with the happiness of saying goodbye to the possum home came the smoldering rubble that lasted much too long. And with my asthma, you did not want to hear anything from me during that time.
Happy thoughts flee like mice from the hot flames, when smoke surrounds the acreage. And no matter when the fire is lit and with what wind it is first fanned… the wind will switch the next day and blow directly towards the house. There could be a forecast of perfect breeze and it will turn around exactly the hour the fire reduces to smoldering soot. I do not know where this law came from, but it happens every time we burned a pile of branches.
Asthma and smoke do not agree.
Every time they ask me at the doctor’s office if I smoke or drink alcohol, I want to just stare at them in utter disbelief. “That would be stupid!” Is my customary reply, “I have asthma and allergy responses to both.” So the last two weeks resulted in book reading, crochet projects, mini-series watching, and blurred vision.
The smoke stung my nose and caused my vision to blur. My focus on writing disappeared as I struggled to manage daily living. It took me two hours to clean up my dear Honey from her smokey fur and sooty paws. Then it took me another six hours to clean up the bathroom and attached bedroom where she coexists with us. During the smokey haze, her sense of smell was greatly disturbed and so we have been playing scent games to get it back. She still sneezes vehemently as she attempts to use her nose. So far her finds have been with her eyes.
And more gently training to keep her near me while I am outdoors. With the smoke drift and the present drizzle, it is easy to keep her leashed. We will eventually designate frisbee hours. He attachment to me is welcome even though grey air was the catalyst. Getting her to “sight-dog” status may be an entire summer’s job. I rather doubt she will take to it as easily as Seymour did. But who knows.
The greenhouse suffered from the lack of sunshine and cold. My disheartened spirit has kept me from posting any wonderful spring photos and keeping my hopes up is hard. The poor fig trees are still trying to recover from the hard winter. Proof that the sun is so important.
Classical piano pieces fill my ears while I attempt to regain some focus.
Remember that little nursery rhyme:
“See, see, what shall I see?”
A horses tail where it’s head should be.
I wonder how many times I have failed to back into the stall for fear of tripping or fall? Am I stuck in my ways, unable to sway? Feeling the breeze but frozen stiff, like bricks and stones in my own way? Do I handle the moments that come along, with my head turned wrong?
Listening to an old favorite “bridle book” is a good reminder to take a second look at all that I think and say. It is necessary at times to rediscover our foundation.
It is still rainy and miserable cold out today. But the library holds many good reads that can lift me into a more sunny way. Mother Goose was one of them. (Apologies to the people who hate rhyme time.)