The Litte Things

I bought my tulips last Friday. Repotted them on Saturday or Sunday. They began to unfurl more after I put in pot. And today, they are opening. Aren’t they gorgeous? And I looked it up they can be container potted, I just need to force ‘winter’ on them. Either in cold storage or the fridge.

Who knows. My vines weren’t suppose to last the winter either and yet I have a new cutting begun and flourishing for my Sweet Potato Vine. My other vine will need cutting back and repotting in smaller container. Also need a better trellis support for it.

The dried up one is my lavender bush that went dormant over winter. Hoping that it will make a come back. I have been harvesting pieces the have broken off and put into jar. Who knows what things I may be able to concoct with it.

I also have my Lime Cypress but am not sure what it is doing. They require a lot of water and sunlight. I keep hoping that it is going to come back to me but at the moment is very annoyed with me.

When I’m Good

Everyone wants to be my friend. They want to bask in my sunshine. They want to be touched with my enthusiasm and joy. My love.

But when things go awry, and they do I just do not share, and the darkness begins to tap its bony fingers on the door to my soul, people are reluctant to hear. To share. To understand.

And I get it.

I am the cheer maker. I am the one with broad shoulders that all can lay their problems on. They are very very broad and I carry the fears and worries of others with ease. It is how I was made.

I am not always good. I am not always the bright light that shines in everyone’s corners.

Sometimes I am the darkness that consumes my soul. The anguish and fear I can no longer stuff back into the corner. It oozes out and I am face to face with the crazy, the insanity that I keep bound in an iron trunk at the bottom of the sea.

The sea of my emotions. My pain. My fears.

They are vast. They encompass parts of me that languish, starved because only I can see them.

And who really wants to see that ugliness anyways?

Reeling a line, gathering goop and ill wills. Twisting and turning, stuffing it all back in the box from whence it came.

I am not always strong.

I am not always ok.

But no one wants to know, so I shall always remain good.