While watering the garden this morning, I noticed that finally a bird family has taken up occupancy in this birdhouse- custom built by my father & painted by yours truly, months ago.
it’s the little things in life.
LAVENDAR COTTAGE BIRDHOUSE
art, birdhouse, garden, life, painted birdhouse, traditional art
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There is an hour, a minute - you will remember it forever - when you know instinctively on the basis of the most inconsequential evidence, that something is wrong. You don't know - can't know - that it is the first of a series of "wrongful" events that will culminate in the utter devastation of your life as you have known it.
— Joyce Carol Oates, A Widow’s Story
“I know that when I die somebody’s going to sell my flesh on the black market, one of my awful distant relatives. That’s why I smoke and drink, so I taste bitter and no one gets any pleasure out of my death.” She takes a quick drag and says, “Today I’m the butcher, tomorrow I might be the cattle.”
— Agustina Bazterrica, Tender Is the Flesh
Do not stand
At my grave and weep
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand
Winds that blow,
I am the diamond
Glints on snow.
I am the sunlight
On the ripened grain.
I am the gentle
Autumn’s rain.
When you awaken
In the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet bird in
Circled flight.
I am the soft stars
That shine at night.
Do not stand
At my grave and cry.
I am not there.
I did not die.
— Hopi Prayer, Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep
Are you angry with the bird because he can fly, or angry with the horse for her beauty, or angry with the bear because he has fearsome teeth and claws? Because he’s bigger than you are? Stronger too? Destroying all the things you hate won’t change any of that. You still won’t be a bear or a bird or a horse. Hating men won’t make you a man. Hating your womb or your breasts or your own weakness won’t make those things go away. Hating never fixed anything.
— Amy Harmon, Where the Lost Wander
I had no interests. I had no interests in anything. I had no idea how I was going to escape. At least the others had some taste for life. They seemed to understand something that I didn't understand. Maybe I was lacking. It was possible. I often felt inferior. I just wanted to get away from them. But there was no place to go. Suicide? Jesus Christ, just more work. I felt like sleeping for five years but they wouldn't let me.