Did I say raised? That's not quite true. My parents, being bohemian sorts, kind of tossed the seed out there, then stood back and said, "Let's see how she does!" They supplied me with some support against the wind, but, generally speaking, I was left to my own devices. It was good for me. I learned to dig my roots in deep when things got rough and I'm an old hand at turning my face to that one ray of sun when the storms set in. Did I turn out alright? I think so. Other people I've known, who grew up in the rose bed — tended, pruned and dosed with various "fertilizers" — have always been the ones who were most drawn to me.
I don't know what brought on this feeling of being alone, or set apart, this morning. After two weeks of feeling fully engaged, I woke up feeling a bit outside of it all. It's not bad. It's where I create from, and the weather has turned back to winter after a week of unexpected spring. I also haven't slept well all week, but I'm used to that, too. I'm going to be alone quite a bit this weekend so I welcome this mood of solitude — I'll spend my time working on my new book and reading some of those on my list over there ----->
My mother had a saying she used whenever I did something she neither approved of nor understood: "You're growing up like a weed!"
Perhaps, but a flowering one! And I wouldn't trade places with the most beautiful hybrid rose for all the world!
Photo Credit: Christine at Homesteading in the Burbs