Well, here it is, near the end of February—and thus far I’ve survived my most dangerous month. The river water reflected my thoughts and moods this morning, though….a little wobbly, yet still bright in the sunshine. Spring has arrived early here in my beloved Dark Corner mountains—jonquils are nodding, Lenten roses are raising their heads to the sun and lo and behold first thing I saw from my window this morning was my Fortunia Vitata in bloom!!! Glory be—I thought I’d lost her in last construction work, but…she’s a survivor! a beautiful, delicate, gently painted survivor…one of the oldest azaleas and I think rare nowadays. So that lifted my heart and straightened out the wobbles a bit!
But still…perhaps it’s where I am in the journey of life—I marvel at the mercurial variety of my thoughts and memories and their commensurate moods……..And my DREAMS!!! whoof……..it’s like all of the days and minutes and seconds of my life have been put into one of those big tumbler machines and someone (devil or angel??) sits there turning the giant handle while these fragments rearrange themselves in kaleidoscope colors and patterns. I awake in astonishment!— at the brightness, the sharpness, the muddled accuracy of all those memories….some are delightful, some a bit disconcerting, but they’re all the composite me, which is a little wild when I stop to think about it. Have you, Dear Reader, ever cried in your dreams, only to awaken and find that you have real tears standing in your eyes? Or better yet, have you ever awakened laughing out loud?! I have and it’s truly delightful—one of God’s little mysterious gifts……
But another side of this journey is that I find “my old ones” attend me more frequently these days—which does wondrous things to my heart. My wonderful mother whom I long to see again, whose wicked wit I miss and whose cloudy blue eyes I see each and every morning reflected in my mirror. My gentleman father whose “old school” manners and values are almost a thing of the past these days….and my blithe sister Tudie who left this world far too soon. But the peculiar irony is that….in missing them, in longing for them to warm my life again—they actually ARE warming my life, coloring my world in all the soft and brilliant shades of memory. And those memories….live. And so…in ways I can’t quite understand, ways I’m probably not meant yet to understand, my old ones are nearer to me today, ever-present with me every day. Closer to me than when we were alive and living down the way or in another town. Closer to me…when I walk by my river and feel the warmth of the morning sun on my shoulders and back, when I dream and they make cameo appearances or steal the whole show, when I’m alone or when I’m in a crowd and have that deja vue all over again……..
And all this, Gentle Reader, is what comes from watching the river current dance in the sun….this sweet early spring, end-of-February morning. What a life! What a world! and what an amazing thing memory is………
Views from Annie's Cabin 
Okay, I’m going to try and post it to my fb page. Is that okay with you??
I love this one, especially the memories of those gone. I’ve always felt like any time I remember a comment, a smart-ass remark, a funny conversation with any of them, I always consider it a visit. And think of this: your dreams are brought to you by you, they’re in YOUR psyche. Your own gift. That’s a real as real can be.
I’d like to read and understand more about the realm of dreams—-got any good leads for me?