Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like you better get your butt in gear.

(Yeah.  This photo has nothing to do with Mondays at all.  But it is pretty.  And it will serve to remind me that I still owe you a post about the SOFA exhibit I went to in Chicago . . . 10 days ago already.  Because this is one of the photos I took at SOFA.)

Last week became one of those "lost weeks" for me.  Between the election and then that dang shingles shot . . . and then feeling like I was entitled to a bit of a break because of that dang shingles shot . . . and some other commitments, I just sort of checked out on Regular Life.

Definitely time to get my butt in gear!
(And how about YOU?  How's your Monday looking so far?)

Sometimes Mondays

. . . are about as Monday as they come.  

Mondays that don't go as planned.  With a power-blip and a printer that won't print and a router that needs a re-start and an unexpected visitor and a slower-than-expected software update.  You know.  A Monday kind of Monday. 

But.  Tomorrow is Tuesday.  And that means . . . 

I know I don't really need to remind any of you . . .   but I will anyway.

VOTE!  

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look pretty bleak.  

Sad and discouraging, even.  
Sometimes Mondays . . . (borrowing the words from The Carpenters) always get me down.  
And especially after a weekend . . . after a week . . . like we've just had.

But, then.

But, then.  I walk into my living room and see this outside my window.

It is my larch tree.  Glowing!  Exuding magic and stunning color.  Right there in my garden.

This incredible tree - a larch - is a conifer.  But it is a deciduous conifer.  Which means it will lose all of its needles once this stunning, golden display of today is finished.  It will look absolutely dead all winter long.  But in the spring?  Lovely, soft green needles will sprout from its branches once again.

This incredible tree is reminding me that the garden . . . is a place for hope.

And I really need that reminder today.

It seems that Sometimes Mondays . . . are really about finding hope.  
Keep looking, my friends.

“If you lose hope, somehow you lose the vitality that keeps moving, you lose that courage to be, that quality that helps you go on in spite of it all. And so today I still have a dream.”
                   --- Martin Luther King Jr.

 

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like cleaning up.

I spent much of my weekend outside, in my garden, clearing things up and preparing my garden beds for the winter.  It's a bittersweet time, but so very nice to be out.

More to do out there today.

How about you?  What's your Monday looking like?

Sometimes Mondays

. . . feel a little quiet.

Especially after a long weekend of fun, laughter, and love. 

My heart feels a little empty today, but also happy.  Because it's nice and rewarding to have kids growing up well and making their way in the world.  Y'know? 

(But it's really quiet this morning. . . )

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look a little foggy.

Seriously foggy.

Like outside.  And also in my head.

It was a tough weekend - emotionally - for me (and, I imagine, for many of you, too).  I indulged in a little despair and a lot of anger.  I whined some (and "wined" some).  And I have sworn off the news for awhile.  (Again.)

But now it's Monday.  Time to clear the fog.  To find a way to move through it.  And to figure out how I can shine my bright light in it . . . however I can.

Let's go!

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . really feel like a change in the season.

I was only away for a few days, but when I returned home . . . suddenly everything is screaming FALL.

And, y'know?  I'm ready for it!
How about you?

Sometimes Mondays

. . . are for games.

As in . . . if I play my cards right, I'll have some time for more drawing later.

Happy Monday!

Sometimes Mondays

. . . look like a mirror.

"Like water which can clearly mirror the sky and the trees only so long as its surface is undisturbed, the mind can only reflect the true image of the Self when it is tranquil and wholly relaxed."
                                                                         --- Indira Davi

 

 

Sometimes Mondays

. . . are for remembering.