So. Hi. I'm here, with my hands in my back pockets, rocking from my heels up to my toes, blushing. Hi. It's me again.
It's been many weeks, hasn't it? Maybe someday I'll find some courage and use it to tell you all what's been happening in and around me these past few months. Someday. It won't happen today, I assure you. All I can say is, I think I'm back to blogging and I have missed you all dearly. It's good to see you again. You were okay while we were apart, weren't you? Fill me in. Tell me everything.
Everything bloomed while I was away from blogging. These hydrangeas - planted by Ms. Freeman herself some 40 years ago - are at their best today. Truly. The blooms are as large as dinner plates, and the thick-with-dew morning breeze sways them into the peeling, grayed walls of this house. The window pictured here is my bedroom window, along with the hydrangea that sits underneath.
Years ago, back during the second World War, my room was used as a kitchen. A worn table used to sit on the other side of this window. I imagine brides and then children and then old, tired men looking out from the wavy-paned glass onto the frothy blue-and-violet petals below, just as I do now. I wonder if they thought about the same things I do: life... love... dreams... happiness. I wonder if they came to the same conclusion about it all that Beecher and I have: that the art of being happy... of being hopeful... comes from extracting every bit of hope and happiness you can from the common things. It's all much like the bee who extracts good things from blossoms and then carries them home, knowing one day it will all collect and run together and become something substantive and sweet.
Happiness and hydrangeas... hope and honey - they have much in common, if you ask me.
So. So you know, things may begin looking differently around here in the coming months. I want to add some features and introduce you to some new things I love. (Like Picnik, the new [free!] photo editing software I'm using to play with pictures now.) I want to tidy the place up a bit. I still haven't made a decision on ads, but I do know that the bakery isn't turning a profit yet, and this girl's got to do something to survive. Living on hope is running its course.
In the meantime, we'll plan for a calm and comforting summer, and continue to press our noses to our windows and look out, extracting every bit of hope and happiness we can from the common things.
So then. It's hello again. I'm settling back in again. It's good to be back. -Brin