Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Jesus, Savior, Pilot Me

So I'm feeling very worn out by life, work, etc. I'm in need of a break. I'm looking forward to my time away that is coming soon. I don't enjoy things when I get into this mood. It makes it hard for me to do my work. It makes it hard for me to feel motivated. It is just hard.
Don't think that I don't enjoy my work and my life because they are both fabulous. Every so often I reach the I need a break point. And I've reached it.
What I wonder at times like this is what happens to people who have no choice? What if you've reached this point in your life but there is no break available? What if you have to keep working to eat? I don't know the answer to these random questions that jump into my head, so I'm plopping them out here on this space in the hopes that this will help.

Monday, March 23, 2009

Southland in the Springtime

So the weather here has been springy and unpredictable, but it is such a joy to till the garden...okay I admit that Rich tilled but I offered moral support. I love the smell of soil and the back backyard of our place. I'm excited about my new red wheelbarrow. My goal is to get home tonight in time to use it for the trimmings I'll take off the shrubs in the front yard.

And in the spirit of spring, here's lyrics to a great song by the Indigo Girls

Southland in the Springtime
Maybe we'll make Texas by the morning
Light the bayou with our tail lights in the night
800 miles to el paso from the state line
And we never have the money for the flight
I'm in the back seat sleepy from the travel
Played our hearts out all night long in New Orleans
I'm dirty from the diesel fumes, drinking coffee black
When the first breath of Texas comes in clean
And there's something 'bout the Southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the Southland in the springtime
In Georgia nights are softer than a whisper
Beneath a quilt somebody's mother made by hand
With the farmland like a tapestry passed down through generations
And the peach trees stitched across the land
And there's something 'bout the Southland in the springtime
Where the waters flow with confidence and reason
Though I miss her when I'm gone it won't ever be too long
Till I'm home again to spend my favorite season
When God made me born a yankee he was teasin'
There's no place like home and none more pleasin'
Than the Southland in the springtime