Photo quote de jour


What began on Monday as week of exploring creativity and expecting the unexpected, I got more than I bargained for. Today's post ends culminates what began on Tuesday. After meditating on yesterday's Earthworm teacher, I got good and dirty in my garden to ruminate on what lies beneath. The rain-drenched soil teemed with shoots of green and underneath, their roots. Metaphors sprouted; what lies beneath are things hidden, treasures or lies, the subconscious, the unspoken, the promise of new growth, of transformation where the past, present and future co-mingle. What lies beneath are dead things composting. Death and new life wrestle in a cosmic dance. With my ill feral cat Domino possibly leaning on death's door, I thought of my other cat Coco decomposing for the past six months in another part of the garden.  And then it hit me. The sadness I felt was for another spring long ago.

For the past few years, I've photographed the same assortment cemetery angels during the seasonal changes. Sunny skies and pale green leaves coaxed me to a favorite place.I looked at the calendar and the date jolted me with memories. The date my dad suffered a heart attack and fell into a coma. He died a few days later on May 1.



Mt. Hope cemetery ( perfect name) is large with winding roads I know well, but for some serendipitous reason, I took the wrong turn and ended walking up unfamiliar road. Lying in the middle of the road lay one red rose. It might as well have been a flashing neon stop sign. It looked as if someone had placed it there for me. There were no other flowers nearby and it glowed fresh and dewy despite the dry hot asphalt. A messenger perhaps? I was afraid to touch it, but I couldn't leave it  to wilt or crushed under tires.



It felt like a message from my father. I'd always hated red roses. Maybe not hated but lovers quickly learned to give me any color but. For my father's funeral I brought him a floral arrangement of red roses. I didn't understand why until much later. Our relationship was rocky until a few years near the end. I was his beloved daughter but I never felt loved by him because of something that happened when I was six. What to do? When in doubt ask an angel, so I did. I picked up the rose and carried to my car and drove down to the exit. I needed to place it on someone's grave. There would be message there for me but which grave out of thousands? In the distance, I spotted a very old worn lamb tombstone from the turn of the century. That's it. I marched over rose in hand. I placed the rose. My heart skipped a beat. In loving memory of our daughter, it said. The little girl, a Leo like me died in April when she was six. I patted the rose and and smiled. Thanks dad.



It rained the next day, and Domino stayed scarce. I prayed for a miracle and he returned home yesterday, still ill but ate a med-laced meal and settled in a nest under the porch. I breathed easier, but knew his life or death was out of my hands. (more about his journey at Cat Saturday, tomorrow). I strolled the garden and found one solitary red tulip in an bed of lily of the valley. My dad's nickname for me was Lily.


Don't be afraid to look at what lies beneath your life. Messages, teachers and life lessons are everywhere if we stay alert to them. Thank-you for joining me on this journey.  I leave you with this image taken last evening after the storm cleared. Have a beautiful weekend!