Life is messy.

Reflections at Panmure Basin

“It’s all messy: 

The hair.  

The bed.  

The words.  

The heart.  

Life.” 

~ William Leal

Life is short.  

And messy. Very messy.

One of the images from our rambles last week

Thoughts have crept unbidden into my mind this last week.

Early morning rambles do that.

It’s the solitude.

No one else around.

Just the hound and I.

And that glorious red glow in the sky.

We like it like that.

It leaves room to think.

To ponder on the loss I’m feeling.

Loved ones, be it family or friends, leave holes that aren’t easily filled.

We even got to ramble with the oldest lemming and two of his charges
Chase and the rather gorgeous Walter

The hound knows when my heart is sore.

So much is read in those soulful eyes.

Every move she makes is aimed to please.

She nudges my hand as we walk.

Drops the rugby ball for me to kick.

Another image from my rambles this last week

No matter how ineffectual the kick, 

she pounces on the ball with gusto.

Her enthusiasm and waggling bum can’t help but elicit a smile.

Our ramble this morning though was about to get messy.

Courtesy of a discarded fully inflated soccer ball.

Her delight on finding this treasure was infectious.

How could I not grin?

Chase and the hound whuispering sweet nothings
in each other's ears.

No Labrador’s mouth though is large enough to carry TWO balls.

Unless you’re Chase the Chocolate Labrador 

who quite comfortably fits 3 to 4  tennis balls in his mouth.

Even HE though would struggle with a rugby ball AND a soccer ball.

It’s just not possible.

So she worked out a plan.

Chase with only 2 balls in his mouth

She carried one ball a few hundred metres, dropped it, 

then went back for the other.

Our ramble back to the car was slower than the ramble from it.

Walter ... he might be old but there's nothing wrong with his attitude

Neither ball was left behind though.

BOTH came home with her.

It was a lesson in ingenuity,

but farcical in the extreme.

Mornings like this make any messy moments in life more bearable.

No matter how sad I might feel,

no matter the voids loved ones leave,

I can’t help but feel that my life is blessed.

“A good life is when you smile often, dream big, 

laugh a lot and realise how blessed you are for what you have.” 

~ anon.

Pockets of stillness.

“Build pockets of stillness into your life.” 

~ anon.

The hound and I are investigators of the ordinary. 

The route we take on our daily ramble is mostly the same 

but there’s always something different to see each day.

From her perspective and from mine.

Winter PJs are nowhere near as interesting as summer ones.

That aside, it’s just NOT the same walking without her.

I MISS her keen nose and sharp eyes.

Most of all I miss her company.

She enjoys watching the world wake up as much as I do.

She’s probably thinking 

“Silly humans ... why do they stay in their beds so long!

There’s a whole world out here waiting to be explored.

The birds are up and the sun’s shining.

Bring on those waves!”

I echo her sentiments.

Except for the waves bit.

I love being outdoors and on the beach as much as she does

but it’s only my feet I’ll get wet during winter.

They got more wet than usual today.

Low tide and a glorious morning mean only ONE thing.

MUDFLATS

In embracing the glorious mess that is me, I sometimes take it quite literally.

This morning was one of those times.

Mud does something to a girl.

It’s not the most glamorous of accessories

but a necessary evil when stalking my feathered friends.

Oh to have the freedom that they have.

When they’ve had enough of the girl with the bright orange scarf they take off.

So graceful and effortless and free.

Till I find them again.

I am more than blessed to have this sanctuary of sorts in my life.

Even without the hound, 

it provides a modicum of normality to the chaos that surrounds me.

Standing on the shore with the waves filling my ear-drums,

I’m removed from the hubbub of everyday life that continues unabated around me.

If I close my eyes, I can make-believe I’m anywhere.

THIS is MY pocket of stillness.

A rainbow on my road!

I still want to be buddies when we're 94

Friends.  

I have, in my circle of friends, a handful of people that I SO want to grow old with.

They’re the ones who’ll ride broomsticks with me when the moon’s full, 

swing from the chandeliers when we’ve imbibed too much  fruit of the vine 

and talk non-stop just because we can.  

They’re the ones who ALWAYS get their feet wet in the waves no matter the season of the year. 

They dance in the rain with me because what else would you want to be doing when it’s raining. 

 They share in my beautiful moments and lift me up when I’m sad.

These friendships melt away miles, hours, feelings .... they just ARE.

All of this was bought home to me so vividly today whilst having coffee with one of this handful of friends. We shared a moment and thought the same thing

  ... we still want to be buddies when we’re 94.

Yes, I know.  We’re odd-ball ... but who cares.

She understands my need for scrambling over rocks and boulders

 to capture shots of those ever elusive kingfishers.  

She sees the sense in mud between the toes and sodden shoes.  

She sees life through a lens like I do ... but in a very different way.

Like me, she believes that living a full life means allowing the petals of your soul 

to fully unfold and to bask in the energy that it brings.

Life IS a big adventure.  An excess of energy is needed to live it fully.

I love that my rambles each day are in the company of a jovial chocolate brown hound 

who HAS that excess of energy in abundance. 

I love that she’s ever so slightly obsessed with rugby balls and logs. 

I love that she’s ever so slightly obsessed with me.

There are worse things to be obsessed by.

When I think of this handful of friends that I want to grow old with, I can’t help but smile.  

Each and every one of them, in their very own way, adds a bit of themselves to the kaleidoscope that is me.