So do we pass the ghosts that haunt us later in our lives; they sit undramatically by the roadside like poor beggars, and we see them only from the corners of our eyes, if we see them at all. The idea that they have been waiting there for us rarely crosses our minds. Yet they do wait, and when we have passed, they gather up their bundles of memory and fall in behind, treading in our footsteps and catching up, little by little.
Stephen King
Stephen King has always mystified me. His penchant for macabre and eerie word images is amazing. The above quote caught my eye when I was searching for an opening to describe the journey that life sometimes seems to be. I find that memories are indeed like ghosts, seen occasionally from the corners of our eyes.
Spring is finally on the way even though the ground is still seriously covered in snow. I have decided at long last to return to this blog and begin again after a series of life changes that left me seriously adrift for quite some time. So my “welcome” gift is this beautiful yellow rose, shot at the Arboretum this fall. One of my acquaintances explained that, indeed, it was a new season, and for me it truly is. A favorite poet of mine, Mary Oliver, has given wings to this journey. I hope to be here for awhile and I hope you will travel with me too! A welcome to my new great grandson.
Let’s make this world a beautiful place.
Country Comfort 