Half In and Half Out

Garden primroses.

Solitary daffodil.

Crocuses -  tender as skin.

Wild violet - I think.

Wild stitchwort? Belinda would know - check out her lovely wild flower blog at Belinda Whitworth - Her Outdoors.

Market Narcissi -  heavenly perfume -  loud enough to drown out shouting....

Today's bunch of spring

Willow buds ( possibly) in the park.

I'm sitting in the open doorway -  half in and half out of the kitchen - my feet on the warm patio step - the sun on my face. A bee is hovering and humming over the mauve flowers of the trailing rosemary bush - the one our pussycat used to snooze under. Behind me on the table is a mixed bunch of daffodils and narcissi  which I bought in the market this morning - I can smell their deep perfume - almost like tropical frangipani. The shouting voices of the neighbours' children, playing with a ball, are drowning out the bee.

I'm taking a break from cleaning our spare room, including the shower, and making up the bed for my big sister who is coming to stay at the weekend.  The sun on the garden is such an invitation to stop and  gaze at the early tender signs of spring - even though there's only one solitary daffodil bud waving like  a curled flag from a pot. Usually I wouldn't linger when I'm in my 'I have to GET ON mode'  but something keeps me there - half in and half out of the doorway.

I'm thinking about yesterday's blog ....about what happened to our old life and how do I do this new one....and then I realise with a sort of drawing back a veil moment that there isn't an old or a new life. The past really is over and I only made up some fantasy future anyway about how I imagined it would be....and it hurts and hurts if I spend too much time there. But what I do have is my life now - uncertain, messy, scary, sad and also full of love and gentleness and support and possibility.

So instead of being half in and half out of my life I could embrace it all, just the way it is today - give all of it house room - like in  Rumi's The Guest House.... I could take my husband's hand and let the perfume of the narcissi drown out the shouting in my head.

THE  GUEST  HOUSE
	This being human is a guest house.
	Every morning a new arrival.
	A joy, a depression, a meanness,
	some momentary awareness comes
	as an unexpected visitor.
	Welcome and entertain them all!
	Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
	who violently sweep your house
	empty of its furniture,
	still, treat each guest honorably.
	He may be clearing you out
	for some new delight.
	The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
	meet them at the door laughing,
	and invite them in.
	Be grateful for whatever comes,
	because each has been sent
	as a guide from beyond.