As a person who is vertically challenged. I rarely walk with my head in the clouds.
My first string of stitches was as a crawler, slitting my chin open tripping over my overalls. From that moment on I have spent a good deal of time scraping my knees, icing fat lips, bending my tailbone, and wiping my nose on plate glass windows.
When I am in antique and charity shops, I often fail to look up. I miss the chandeliers and hanging kettles, the yokes and the halters – but, I don’t crash into the Havilland soup bowls or Royal Doulton teapots.
When I roam the acreage here on the Cutoff it is to the earth I look. The ground is uneven with traveling tree roots seeking ankles to grab. It is strewn with pick up sticks of windblown matter. Our lawn has more potholes than a Chicago city street in winter. There is, I shutter to say, even a kill zone where birds and deer and bones and feathers are often found; remains of the night one does not want to step into.
Mid-winter, after a January thaw, there are pockets of slush and snow that have not yet drained; potential pools for a nasty spill, especially for the likes of someone like me. I tread delicately and watch where my feet are going in our little neck of the woods.
Lest you wonder what manner of mishap I may have endured, rest assured, I have not.
I am vertical, in one piece, and without any bruises, bumps, or breaks. In fact, I would say that I had my head in the clouds, except that my recent wanderings were on a rare and wondrously mild wintry day, with nary a cloud in the sky, unlike today, a weepy, cloudy, greige sort of day.
I walked about, on that sunnier day, the local herd watching my every move as they grazed in the brush nearby. A cardinal sang somewhere overhead, his song a calling card. I walked about, the sun warming my back, heading toward the house, and I dreamed a dream of the daydreaming sort; of someday soon lounging in Penny’s Arbor House, sipping tea, following those shadows and circles of life, and counting my many blessings.
I stood still to take the photo.
Lifeonthecutoff's Blog 
What a nice moment. I can always depend on you for good writing and a peaceful moment.
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Thank you, Adrienne. Such words from you make m heart sing. I’m glad to have given you a peaceful moment.
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My goal is to someday write as well as you. Because of your prompting, I am taking a creative writing class!
I so enjoy your stories, your writing, and your ability to poke fun at yourself–usually providing a chuckle and sometimes two. But the funnier thing, is that we’ve all been there!! We’re laughing at ourselves as well!!
Thank you for my break today!
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Oh, Jan, I am so excited to hear that you are taking a creative writing class. Good for you and thank you. Have fun with it. I know you will do well.
You are most welcome and thanks for your words. Chuckles are good and I learned long ago that it was easier to laugh at myself than beat myself up. You have a wonderful sense of humor, Jan, and the ability to laugh at yourself as well.
Keep me posted on your class.
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Smiling as I read, again, your plate glass window tale. 🙂
I am still adjusting to my eyeglasses, and trying to get it in proper order as to when to put them on and when to take them off. I’m being most careful, lest I get up from the computer and make it halfway across the room before figuring out why everything is so fuzzy. 🙂 Driving is a snap though!
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Good to hear that it kept you entertained once again, Karen.
You are very wise to take you time with those new glasses. Years ago, when I went to mono-vision (gosh, it seems ages and ages ago) I had a few encounters with corners of walls. Sigh. Glad driving is good, though. Slowly, slowly you will have it mastered. 🙂
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Lovely …I am glad you lifted your eyes. And gladder that you stood still to take the picture. My problem in antique stores is that I am too tall and have too many knees and elbows. I am always afraid I won’t make it through the crowded aisles without buying a broken set of dishes.
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Ha! Sometimes I think before I move (or stop) Sallie.
Thank you.
While I’m not very tall, my hips are wide – and then there is the matter of purses. We carry on, though, don’t we? Thanks for giving me a smile, Sallie.
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My heart is always lighter when you show the Arbor House. You got a preview of sunny days to come and so did we.
You and I would be an accident waiting to happen if we ever got together with your ambulatory history and mine. But it would be such fun and I imagine we’d have fits of giggles along the way!
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What a very sweet thing to say, Marilyn. Thank you, and yes, a preview of sunny days for me and for you.
Ha! I’m imagining the two of us giggling so hard that one won’t be able to help the other up. 🙂 I’m smiling just at that thought, Marilyn.
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This was like a nice little walkabout with you Penny and what a beautiful blue sky in that photo! But please tell me you have never found a dead deer in the kill zone!
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How happy it makes me to read your words, Janet. A walkabout. Yes. 🙂 It was hard to remember today how blue that our sky was just a few days ago. It’s been such a gray winter, hasn’t it?
I wish I could tell you that, Janet, but, I have found a dead deer, and I wish I had not seen it. It wasn’t a big, bloody mess, but, it was just horrible to see. A few days later, we found a raccoon. Coyote.
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Horrible! I wonder what could have taken down a deer? It would have to be more than one coyote wouldn’t you think so? I can’t think of another predator around here that could do that.
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It was likely coyote, probably several, Janet. We had parts and our neighbor had other parts. They left the skull and legs. It was horrible. Tom went back to clear up what was left and it was all gone. They picked it clean, poor thing. It was probably a fawn that had been weaned.
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I let loose a little sigh as well. I would love to sit in Penny’s Arbor House with you enjoying some tea served with a bowl full of giggles and memories. I felt that same pull toward warmer weather on a sunny day which you started with your Wind in the Willows quote the other day.
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A bowl of giggles and memories; oh, Janet, that would be a most delicious pleasure and treat in Penny’s Arbor House. I think we are all yearning warmer weather, and Toad just reminded us of comfort foods and times. We’ve had so many gray days here, which I suppose you have had as well.
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I spent some time on the phone with Becca tonight, and she’s enjoying this odd weather you’re having, too. We’ll have to go on a walk, arm and arm. Maybe we can look up together without falling down together. Ha.
Three Chicago events are firm. March 10 and 11. Becca is hitting it hard now, so I’m hoping for several more. I’ll let you know when I book tickets. xo
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Ha . . . or one looks up while the other down. It is gray again today. I am tired of gray. 😦
Can’t wait. Do let me know when you are set, Andra, and what I can do for you. I can’t wait to hear what your venues are. 🙂
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Penny, this was delicious to read. I was glad to reach the part where I knew you hadn’t taken tumble. Boy, but do I relate to why my husband refers to as “slips, trips and falls.” He would some days greet me with, “How was your day? Any slips, trips or falls?” LOL! I walk much more carefully these days. I admire your beautiful writing and the lovely descriptions of what sounds so emotionally refreshing. I hope that you have many more such days before winter ends. And I’ so excited to read that Andra is coming your way! How delightful to think that you will be sharing some time! 🙂
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I did string you all along a bit, didn’t I? Sorry. After that tumble you took a year or so ago, I’m sure you are more careful, Debra. Sometimes, no matter how careful I am, I am still basically clumsy. Ha!
Isn’t it exciting? I just saw your “like” below her comment. We are quite delighted here and hope she will be comfortable in our old house along the Cutoff. Isn’t life grand?
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Penny, I’m so glad to hear you are still vertical and no harm was done. Your post is full of light and shade, things that make me smile and things that make me muse, such as ‘remains of the night one does not want to step into’. This is beautiful writing. Winter is bringing out the poet in you.
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Thank you, Juliet. You have made my evening with your generous words. I appreciate this very much.
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