a meme of hearts

This is part of a meme Bonnie of Bonnie's books, gave Vanilla of absolute vanilla to do.
Go to their sites to see it in its full form.
After visiting Vanilla today I felt I should do part of it, in the spirit of Valentines day.



A flock of birds taking flight. My son's face. Light through the trees. Light coming through green leaves, and colored petals, like nauture's stained glass. Light reflected off of things, like tree branches, water. Light hitting drops of water as it sprays. The sunset in the clouds, and those colors reflected off of houses, and trees, and snow. On wind, falling leaves, falling snow, falling and flying flowers. Fields of flowers, flower gardens. Poppies, peonies, roses, wisteria vines. The first flowers of spring
Love realized, love being.
My son sleeping, all my maternal worries rest peacefully in that moment with him, there is nothing that needs to be done, nothing I should be doing, it is time for sleeping, for being still in dreams, safe in this space, he is so beautiful, I stand amazed, knowing time will take this from me, and then the beauty of this moment will become memory.


serendipity comes and kisses me.
When I feel love, and harmony.
When I hear nature, or paintings singing.

I am at the shore or somewhere, and my husband and son are apart from me, and I look over, and it is like they are new to me...separate from, and I can look upon them and think "those two, those two people over there, they are mine, my people, they are with me." and I smile and think how lucky I am to have them. And to be theirs.

Sometimes when my husband is driving, I will notice his arm, as his hand moves over to the gear shift, and the sunlight shows the hair on his arm all golden, and I will see his arm as if for the first time, I will see its otherness, it belongs to someone else, this other being, and yet think "but that is my arm, that is partly my arm.". That arm sleeps in the same bed I sleep in every night. That arm helps carry in my groceries (our groceries), that arm works day after day to earn money to buy me bread and butter and blueberries. That arm is not my arm, yet it is.

My son and I are being silly together, and merrily getting each other's nonsense, and there is this sense of it being just wonderful to be us.

I am reading a book, and come across words that seem written by my own soul, not by wording, but by content of meaning, of feeling, words, meanings that become part of me, that are writing me. And new words and ideas, that echo (the previously unkonwn), bringing forth a gathering of strands, forming me.

I am reading a book and can't stop, the characters and story calls to me, call me back to it, again and again through-out the day, and when I am done, and the last page is turned, I am sad that there is no more story to know.

I am watching a movie, or TV story, and I get to go somewhere fantastic, on a journey of faraway, and on a journey of home. And I feel exicted and calm, and everything.

Beauty breaks through, to wherever I am, held in a different mood, and splashes all over me, washing down, rekindling a spark, that takes delight in just being, here, among.


things singing, music, a music of an underlying harmony, that song within. A song not heard with ears, but through soul.
Birds singing. My son's laughter. The wind rushing through the leaves on trees. My cat purring. The ocean waves flowing in and out. The sound of wings from a flock of birds flying overhead. The music from my ipod, the energy of it, the atmosphere of it is a current of wind I ride. The chirping call of the golden lion tamarin. The sound of the water as I water my plants, a little waterfall, a stream.

To the shore in the summer. My feet in the sand, my head in the clouds, my soul in the sea. The sights, sounds, scents, tastes, what I touch, and think and feel with my emotions, connects me across time, I feel my past, I feel my present, I sense the future, and an interwovenness of me through time with those before me, those here with me now, and those who will come after.

Ripe fruit. The scent of a ripe nectarine, or strawberries, sends a thrill through me, which is akin to lust, filling me with joy. It shimmers off me like waves of heat on summer pavement. And the taste when perfectly sweet is the same as happiness. Oh the blueberries, the cherries, the raspberries, the watermelon I could eat the whole thing, the cantaloupe...

A cold sweet orange eaten in the summertime while taking a shower.

And I love salt, love it on everything except fruit. I love cheese. I love to eat bakery bread with good butter. I love to drink Tropicana orange juice, mixed with bolthouse carrot juice over crushed ice (I could get good and fat only consuming bread and butter and drinking that juice). I love Alessi pasta sauce alla norma (eggplant), I crumble hard bread into it, sprinkle a bit of cheese on top, heat it, eat it with sour cream and think it the most perfect dinner ever. I love Mack and Manco pizza. I love french fries when they are just right, sort of crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside. I love going to Red Robin and getting a five alarm burger but substituting grilled Tuna (for the burger). I don't like to admit this, but right now, I do so like a five guys bacon cheeseburger with tons of stuff on it. And I like to get stuff from Wegmans asian bar, just one of these and one of those, the walnut chicken, the tikki, the peppers in some kind of curry. Chicken Korma. I do love avocado, but it has been a long time since I found a truly good one.

I am quite fond of desserts, but am so filled up on them right now, I can't think of one I desire.