|Original art created by Judith Parsons Art 2016|
Almost a week in Ireland, and I am back in heaven. I have forgotten how nice it is to have conversation. I have missed playing in the garden and doing dishes. You would think I have lost my mind.
You know that I live in San Francisco. It is a noisy city. It can not be helped. Outside of my window is tennis and basketball courts and there is constant thudding of the basket ball and screams of joy or frustration at the volleyball game. While here, there is an occasional dog barking down the street. There is the silence of the breeze. The contrast is not lost upon me.
While in the city, I do not talk. The Southern Savannah woman has learned to hold her tongue. You know how Southerners tend to be, easy to talk to, never met a stranger... we chat, we smile...it is what we do.
Most of the older folk in the area of China town do not speak English, so what I might have said 3 years ago…a compliment given upon the bus, is no longer made. The silence I am aware of. Here, with Anita and her mom, Maggie. The conversation flows easily, we chat about nothing and everything and my river of language is flowing again.
Here, in Anitas little kitchen there is a window view of a lovely mountain of green, the sheep graze and birds glide by. I put on the music and I wash dishes, looking out the window watching the golden light move and enjoying the light. The photograph upon this page is from the back garden, looking to the left. It is divine.
Most of my time is spent making art in San Francisco. There is no garden, no plot of land that I go to sow seeds or to trim roses. While here, there is a green house and there are 20 small rose plants that Anita and I have been cultivating as our babies. She has been a good mom, tending and caring for the cuttings that we rooted 9 months ago. There is much pleasure in assisting a plant along, watching its growth.
Oh, and the car deal. I could go on for days upon that subject. The ability to purchase groceries and not have to worry about pulling my arms out of there sockets, because of the weight of the bags, is amazing.
Everything is relative. It is so simple…so easy to see. I am humbled by my life. I am blessed to have this miracle of a home to come to visit. It is magical and incredible. Sure, the quiet, the conversation, the quaint kitchen, the garden, bathroom and the car all make this abode incredible…However, the love and laughter that we share is the miracle. It makes me glow in warm light—my toes are barely touching the ground.
It is in the small sweet things that make life worth living. THIS is heaven upon earth.