Turns into a carriage at midnight

I think I may be coming down with a case of Stendhal’s. I could have spent hours spinning around the garden in Chicago, dizzy with cool air, soft, golden tones, and steam rising from the plants in the morning. The simplicities of life once again make me more aware; my senses were heightened, and  I tried to take the musty garden home with me in deep breaths.

I told you — Stendhal’s. Or seasonal appreciativeness. Your choice.

Spending a weekend with close friends was reaffirming. I’ve been struggling with work;  it can been incredibly defeating to try to lead a small, well-intentioned, poorly funded nonprofit at this time. Our mission is very specific and while our programs are flourishing, our finances look more like those decaying leaves. I’m pushing as hard as I can to get us to a fertile spring and fruitful summer. The girls reminded me I have what it takes — namely passion — to even change the seasons.

I’m changing seasons in my perspective too, trying harder than ever to appreciate this very moment. I’m guilty of bemoaning the happiness and saddness of the past and focusing on the future life I have planned without considering the joys of the one I’ve got.  I’m guilty of being a list maker — checking off tasks during the day with a sense of accomplishment but rarely fulfillment. I’m abandoning this outlook. All we have is today. I have so very much to be grateful for, including having a job, and those wonderful friends.

As my momma says, I’m much prettier smiling.