hailstones for everyone

My daughter and I were riding our bikes home today, and the sky opened up and dumped down hail. It was so unexpected and so violent in the slanting way the ice pellets struck our skin that it was almost funny.

Well, the six-year-old didn't think so. She was furious, crying and completely miserable. I kept yelling up to her (over the pounding of ice pellets) just keep going, honey! We're almost home!

We did get home, put on dry clothes and ate a couple homemade snickerdoodles, and watercolored together (see new banner). We both had that feeling that we had just acquired a good story.

But, unfortunately, we didn't do any of those things before I felt compelled to deliver a motherly speech about being a good sport about circumstances no one can control. It was uncomfortable, I lectured, but it didn't actually hurt you. You were acting like it was your own personal hailstorm.

And right in the middle of that speech I understood that I was giving it to myself. We've had all this uncertainty lately, regarding work, and I've been stewing about it. Like I was the only one who could feel the ice pellets. But while it's uncomfortable, it's not actually hurting me.

And I'm going to have a good story when this is over.

why they are masters

Every day I make an effort to go toward what I don’t understand. This wandering leads to the accidental learning that continually shapes my life.
— Yo-Yo Ma

Ancora imparo.
[I am still learning.]
-- Michaelangelo, age 87

snow + bloom

Perhaps I'm taking the silver lining thing a bit too far, but I find reassurance that sometimes, even Earth herself muddles things up. Today, long after she released the blooms in my neighborhood--oops, she flurried some snow.
















(Can you see it swirling in this photo?)

It's strange. Surreal. Beautiful. And it allows me to take it a little easier on myself when I go to the store expressly for eggs and bread, and I come home with eggs (and tofu and chocolate and strawberries) but no bread. I'm in good company in my absent-mindedness.

Gertrude sums it up

"I do want to get rich, but I never want to do what there is to do to get rich."

Gertrude Stein, from Everybody's Autobiography

I search for deeper water

"I used to sit on the banks with a raft and watch the water roll lazily by. One day I pushed my raft into the shallows of the water and found the water moved swifter than I thought. My raft was actually a boat. Then, after some time, I rowed my little boat into deeper water. There were great storms, mighty winds, tremendous waves, and sometimes I felt so alone. But my little rowboat is now a mighty ship manned by my friends and loved ones; and beautiful calm seas, warm sunny days, and nights filled with comfortable dreams always double after a storm. Now, I could never go back and sit on the bank. In fact, I search for deeper water. Such is life when lived."

B. D. Gulledge (emphasis mine)

(Thank you to Alli .)