I have been in a writer’s funk since I put away the book about the Pearson Women. There has been some guilt about it. Now that I am my own Mama Bear, I am better about doing what is best for me even when guilt is involved. I am working on getting strong again after my three hip replacements in two years. I am proud of the results so far.
On Sunday, my bookclub discussed Kristin Hannah’s book THE WOMEN. We had enlightening discussions about the many events involving the main character, a Vietnam surgical nurse, and her two best friends, her parents and several love interests. Reading this book involving a controversial war was an emotional rollercoaster, but we were all glad we had pushed through and read it.
At the end of our discussion, I mentioned what I call ‘time circles.’ There a few were examples of this phenomena in the book.
This got me thinking about a strange event that occurred while I was cleaning out my mom’s house on Enwood.
I noticed two books in the office trash can. I wondered why my sister had thrown them away. There were stacks of books everwhere. Why these two?
When I asked her about it, she did not know anything about the books. We pulled them out of the waste basket. Neither of us recalled having ever seen these two old books.
Of course I thought it was a sign from Daddy. I pulled them out of the trash and read them both. One was a book about Vietnam, the other was a book about marriage.
I was disappointed. They seemed like old- fashioned propaganda from the 1960’s. The mystery of those books has stuck with me. I had no clue what either had to do with me…
UNTIL TODAY
You will have to wait for the circle’s completion. Sometimes you find the end of a circle and sometimes you find a beginning. I call the beginning sign a ‘ heads up.’ The two books I found two years ago were a ‘heads up’ for events happening now. WOW!
I am going on a trip. I may blog, but this circle must wait. It will need my full attention when I return. Rest assured that I will hitting this ‘time circle’ hard when I get back.
There it is. That researcher’s excitement that I have been missing. Hooray!
I am back home for a weekend. I am back to purge the un-needed and fix the broken and play PIBWIB. (put it back where it belongs). I have run out of clean clothes in less than 48 hours. So I had to decend the steps into the dark belly of the house.
I have never liked the narrow laundry room. The adjoining darkest corner room houses boxes from Rose’s college apartment. Kitchen supplies, linens and furniture for a future on-hold. I won’t share a photo of that mess.
I went to my shop which still has the big plants I could not move out on my last visit. I needed a short piece of chain to repair a hanging solar light beside the entrance to the pebble patio with no furniture and a few weeds. No photo.
I save scraps of anything that might be useful later, thus there are many junk drawers and boxes of craft supplies. I knew just where to find scrap chain and wire. I will not share photos of that untidy chaos either.
I have done hours of trimming in the gardens. I left piles for Mr. Flower to haul to the gully. The beds look neater…for now. No before photos will make the blog. Only staged after pictures. The whole truth never makes the cut. Only the successes. Is this misleading?
I will share only the lovely scenes. You will see only the bright blooms and thriving plants. No one cares to see the weeds and debris in piles. No one wants to witness the ugly part of gardening…and life.
Is leaving out the whole truth a lie? Is omission really a sin?
That’s where my head is right now, after abandoning my writing project. The research I spent months doing uncovered the reality of squabbles and sadness and elopements and a suicide that were never shared.
The unpretty pasts of folks I never met. The keeping of their secrets is a bit haunting. That’s what I was thinking about as I preened my gardens to make them pristine and picture-worthy. Only share what is presentable and hide the rest.
We all want our best selves to be seen and remembered. It’s only natural. What would be gained by exposing the ugly? They took things to their graves for their own reasons.
Tidying up their lives to make them presentable was like me cleaning up a flower bed for a photo shoot. Somethings are best left unsaid and unseen…and yet.
I made the decision to stop writing the book I have been working on for two years. The threads of storyline that I started out with have been twisted and severed. The Pearson Women took on a life of its own and took me down roads I never anticipated.
I have uncovered many surprises and several shocks along the way. I have learned alot about my family history. My research has been the subject of family discussions.
I hit a really rough spot several weeks ago. I spent hours trying to find little details I needed which turned up nothing. I have been hitting dead ends and finding dead sources.
The research about the train wreck that killed my great grandfather in 1959 was the clincher. I won’t visit that dark rabbit hole again.
The Pearsons
I have uncovered details about relatives that were not shared for a reason. I believe that sometimes the folks of the past protect the future generations from their sadness by not passing along harmful, painful information.
Maybe someday I will pull out my files and do profiles of each of the characters for my children and realtives to enjoy.
But for now, I am going to be grateful for the good things these people passed down to my generation. I choose to trust their judgement in leaving some things buried in the past.
I really needed a visit from my flowers this morning. Mr. Flower knew this. On his one day off, he took the time to tour our yard and photograph my flowers.
I have kept his shadows in the photos to remind me who took these pictures. This is a very sad fifth anniversary for our family. Actually it was worst day of our lives, especially for him and his mom and sis.
On this day he has chosen to send me flowers.That’s what love looks like. The real kind. The long game.
Thank you so much hubby. Enjoy your day at the farm. Hug your sister. Carry on.
Here he is photographing our thirty-six-year-old azaleas. I was young then. I could not decide on a color, so I bought one of each. My first horticultural experiment at the lake.
I tried another new trail today. I am picking flat places to walk by myself. Any time I hike on uneven terrain or wander off the trail, some stumbling starts. I did not take my walking stick today, so I had to be extra careful.
Brackets and moss on a dead tree.
Today’s walk was on one of the roads around the Flat Top Manor, which is also known as the Moses Cone Estate. The mansion is not open yet, but you can park and walk the grounds.
Moses Cone Estate
I am happy to report that I wobbled but did not fall down today. I also got some pictures of lovely bracket fungi. I found colonies on several dead trees. Brackets are identified by color, top texture and pores.
I did not risk climbing up or down banks to identify these. We will appreciate them from afar.
Large bracket
I also spotted a single Bloodroot bloom.
Bloodroot flower
Finding all this and not falling down was a win:win!
Hiding in plain sight involves two things, clothes and mannerisms. If you are supposed to be a person of authority, that just leaves clothes. Meakness onstage is not an option. Fake it ’til you make it!
If you are a women, camouflage clothing entails the ‘muted colors no-clevage look.’ Pants and shirts are a bit too big and leaning in the unisex direction. Holding attention without being flashy is tricky. There must be subtle details like an interesting brooch or custom button or unflashy/untrashy jewelry. This describes my ‘hiders wardrobe.’
Sometimes items purchased were way too big and required altering. My trusty seamstress, Nadwa, asked repeatedly, “Why you buy your clothes too big?”
Now that I have given up the stage, I am purging these carefully selected and augmented costumes. I look at each one in dismay. I even try some things on hoping to find a redeeming quality. They feel too much like uniforms with bad memories clinging to them.
Here is my set of blazers I call the ‘ Grand Jury Jackets.’ This stint of hiding was the most problematic of all, that year was much more complicated than the ‘Middle School Momish’ collection or the ‘College Lecture and Cat Lab’ assortment.
Grand Jury hiding was tricky. As assistant foreman I was required to get up from the desk which was center-stage during each officer’s swearing in and walk to retrieve the appropriate files from other jurors on stage.
The auditorium was filled with other jurors. The witnesses were law enforcement officers. I will add that most of these men and women were impressive and dedicated. The testimonies involving felonies were sometimes hard to listen to. I did almost hyperventilate several times.
So now that I have explained the purpose of the ‘ Look at Me but Don’t See Me’ wardrobe, I would like to share some photos. These costumes were not cheap and required careful selection and augmentation.
No special order. I served July to June. I will not share the year.
Peach with rolled up sleeves. Two custom buttons.Perfect match of peach flecksBIG, boring blue with no buttons. The previous month must have traumatized me. Totally invisible outfit. I wore this one several times. May keep it.Mysterious Planet button.Almost the same blue as Boring. Custom button.Button like a woven basket.Red Really? Must have been for February.This button has official looking dignity!Dark green, wsy too big and heavy. No new buttons. Must have been depressed this month. Hell, I got depressed just looking at it!I wish this one wasn’t so big.
Handmade button from Etsy shop MyOnblawnes by KattieQ in the United Kingdom. The button is a keeper!
My friends say I am not an introvert, but I am. I have developed coping mechanisms like these blazers to make me feel safe when I am forced to be brave against my will.
I wear myself out being brave alot. So does Rose. It’s not easy acting like an extrovert on stage when you would be happier being invisible backstage painting the props.
floweralley 