White stars on the forest floor


The windflowers, the anemone, the blood roots, the trout lilies, the violets, the trillium have all returned. Afternoon air is warm and sweet. My life proceeds faster than I can process sometimes.

For instance, my daughter is about to matriculate from elementary school. The preteen human animal is a truly strange specimen. No longer a child, but not a teenager. Smart enough to know any overly optimistic unicorn and rainbow parade you might have attempted constructing for them in younger years was bull shit. Bull shit rooted in love, but all the same. Smart enough to know that people suck, but also that people are kind and all we have, so we make the best of it. Smart enough to know that even those in charge, be it parents or teachers or the flipping president of the United States of America, will fail expectations. Smart enough to glean the world smacks of chaos.

I think it’s sort of funny how for the early years we construct such a funny sense of hierarchy. There is authority, there is order, there is right and wrong. There is action and consequence, there is justice and reason. I think this is probably necessary for growing humans of sound mind and heart. But then the illusion crumbles and theΒ  mid-sized humans begin to navigate something they weren’t entirely prepared for. I’ve been lamenting that a bit now and again. Or if I am honest, what I mean is that at the age of 40, I am also lamenting that for myself. These strange times are especially chaotic. Often unfathomable. Obscenely disillusionary. I’m afraid I’ve done all the wrong things in reaction. I’ve closed into myself. I’ve stopped relating to the mythical force I call the Universe. To avoid all the other discordant voices in the world, I’ve often stopped reaching out. I stopped writing here, which if it provided no other good, always helped me find my narrative for a bigger picture. I was fatigued and it was understandable. It’s just I noticed myself becoming irritable and bitter, and then one day I woke up and realized what I had really become was lonely. I am busy enough that it took awhile to notice. But I miss everyone. Even the people I talk to every day.

I don’t know if my mythical force called Universe exists the way I envision it. I’ve always sort of operated as if that is a minor detail that ultimately matters very little. But I said to it, Universe, I miss you. And I miss all the people. Later that day, a friend stopped in my office and brought me a fresh rhubarb cookie. Then my sisters invited me to a folk festival. Then one of my favorite friends in the world said, Friday we drink drinks. I like to consider this to be a magical Universal conversation composed of events, because a little magic sustains us, non? But independently, I realized once again that perspective is everything. So, this is me, reaching out. I’ve missed you. I love you. Tell me how you’ve been. Tell me of your adventures.

The thing about the white flowers that alight the forest floor is they are ephemerals. Fleeting. Like all things.Β  I would regret time spent not adoring them.

The other thing about the white flowers is they are enduring. While they are fragile and appear short lived, they are eternal below ground. They are faithful. They return to themselves each year.

Much love,






14 thoughts on “White stars on the forest floor

  1. This is lovely. I think everyone gets to a place where they miss people that they actually see every day. Or at least often. It isn’t enough to physically be there, you have to BE there in all ways to full deem the benefits. Be present in the moments.

    I remember having to somehow convey to my adorable 3 year old that not everyone is nice, not everyone will do what is best for her, that sometimes people are mean…. I had to do that, because you have to educate them about NOT following off strangers, right? She just didn’t get it, how anyone would ever want to do BAD things to her and hurt her. Now, she has a son (he’s 15 months) and she brought this up the other day. “How do ever tell him about how mean some people can be? He loves everyone.” Full circle moment right there.

  2. Missed you, too. Tiny white flowers on forest floor here, too, and I think of your edelweiss. So glad you turned back or towards this…I had the thought, just a few days ago, that you were walking on, towards other things. oxoo
    & you’ve reminded me that I promised to write more, here, too.
    Much love, iron sister.

    • β™₯ I don’t think I wander on so much as I wander around. Progressively since November I just kept burrowing in, I think, until I realized it was too much, too long, lol. I do hope you write more. I would love to hear about your NW forest flowers and the rest.

  3. I got to see the Trillium blooming a couple of weekends ago – makes me want to walk in the woods more often. I loved your description of the tween state of mind!!

  4. I’ve missed you. Enough that you were one reason I debated fb (but I just can’t). Sometimes I need your words, your perspective. But really isn’t this about what you need? I understand missing everyone even while they are there – or not far – reachable. I wish I was drinking drinks with you some place – perhaps in an alternate reality we are. …. I’m rambling… But thank you for sharing you thoughts and words. Thank you for the thoughts on your girl… Now you are on an adventure. This age is one of reckoning and amazing pride. Isn’t it just mind blowing as they become their very own selves – not without struggles to be sure but amazing nonetheless. Thank you for the lovely photo and beautiful words. peace & sparkles ❀

    • β™₯ drinking drinks would be lovely πŸ™‚ I don’t blame you on facebook. I had been quiet there too… because, while it has it’s perks… I don’t think Facebook is good for people, lol. I just can’t quite let it go yet, though. Am glad to see you though. πŸ™‚

      • I’m certain Facebook isn’t good for me. Lol. I do feel out of the loop sometimes being deactivated. It is a good way to stay in touch and see photos of your peeps. I keep thinking of activating so I can sell some stuff on their sell sites. Ha. I need to have a garage sale but I won’t.

  5. very much love. it’s good to read you. I tend to just post and reply to comments, these days – seems narcissistic – but it’s all I can do until I can do something different.

    I’ve missed you, too. you are loved by so very many people. your tribe.

    you’re right – it’s all fleeting. I’m glad it stays as long as it does, and I try to appreciate it all while I’m aware enough to see it.



    • β™₯ When you get time and feel up to it, I would like to hear about all your new adventures and your new digs.

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