I know. I've not been writing again which sets you to worrying. I keep thinking that tomorrow I'll feel better and I'll write a fabulous blog post to let you know that I'm up and at em' and all is well.
I'm like a wood chuck. I pop out of my hole and make a peep here and there when needed but quickly dive back down into my hole before some irritated hunter comes along and blows out my brains.
I'm sitting here in my recliner looking out the window. It is grey and overcast again. The wind is blowing. I can see the Aspen trees dancing in the wind, their leaves like spinnerets on a tambourine. They remind me of the Aspen trees we had back of the property around the pond growing up. I used to love to sit and watch them as a child. They looked like gold coins to me as the sun would catch them fluttering in the breeze.
The branches made perfect bows and arrows for playing cowboys and indians. I wonder how many of those poor branches we cut off making our weapons. When we'd peel off the bark, it would feel so smooth and slippery underneath, the wood a pretty off white.
We tried attaching chicken feathers to our arrows. We weren't so good at it. I suppose since we really were aiming at each other, it was a good thing our arrows never flew straight.
I planted these Aspen trees in my yard because I remembered enjoying watching them so much growing up and listening to their music. When I planted them, I had no idea that the future would hold many hours with me laying here, watching my trees out the window. I'd say that was a tender mercy don't you?
So, don't get to worrying about me momma. Even when I'm down, I'm not down. I'm surrounded by too many things to be grateful for.