I Shall Dream You and Write You a World

I woke up dream-drunk… my skull full of worlds with walls made of words and wants that demand to be written into a tale. Between my eyelids and sleep, I watched two slick shadow-clad bodies frolicking in a pond that was mostly mud.

Still half-asleep, I reached for a notepad I keep next to my bed, and scribbled the first three lines of this post. I didn’t want to forget the dance… or the mud. And I didn’t. The dream was in my mind as I watered my plants, as I waited for the sun to kiss my grin, as I sipped my passion fruit tea, as I typed these words, thinking, Don’t worry, my muddy sweets, I shall dream you and write you a world. Soon…

Speaking of dreams, writing and other things I love, my passiflora is budding…

my passion-
flower dreams summer
in my hand

…my mango plant, which is proudly bushy, is sprouting new color…

…and this morning, my bean plant woke up flowering.

The world isn’t perfect, my Wicked Luvs. Most of the time, it isn’t even happy. But… if we take a deeper look, if we dare to dream wild dreams, we might just find one thing (or thirteen) that makes us smile (delightfully wicked) for a while.

When Life Is at Its Crappiest, My Tomato Plant Blooms a Juicy Heart

These last few days have been rather crappy… and a bit puky… okay, really puky…

But like I said to a friend, after she asked why I was laughing so hard after having just hurled on my own foot, “Well, I still have a thing or three to be thankful for.” I mean, there are people out there who live with chronic health conditions that are much worse than mine. And unlike me, they can’t claim the superpower of being able to clean their own puke.

Also, how many people out there can walk into their living room to find out that their tomato plant has just bloomed them a heart? Yep, magic everywhere… and some of it, I can turn into salad.

Today, I had one of those “I cried because I had no shoes, then I met a man with no feet” moments. Our sociopolitical situation sort of sucks, my body is being a royal bastard, some humans are acting in ways so shocking that I’m wondering if I should stop using the human label to describe them…

But, in that mess, a tomato plant fruits indoor, my limbs and will are strong enough to feed my body and keep it clean, and a dear friend and my husband say that when I can’t do it for myself, they will.

I hope I never have to take them up on it—at least not in the next few decades. But if the time comes when the world’s turmoil and my treacherous body are too much for me to handle, I’ll remember that I don’t have to handle things… alone.

That (and a heart-shaped tomato) will keep me smiling for a while. What fuels your smile, my Luvs?


When Life Shakes Too Wildly, I Reach for Root and Vine

I am dancing with Uncertainty. She shrouds me gently, looks me in the eye… and in hers, I see tears reflecting all the good—and bad—that has made me the woman I am. On days like today, when she threatens to smother my heart, I let Uncertainty waltz alone, while I dance with a better tomorrow…

I wonder if in the latest bit of Autumn, flowers and bees fear Spring won’t come back…

This wee sprig is the product of accidental pruning. Horrors, too, can breed good things…

…the lavender plant continued to bloom prettily… for a little while.

When I prepped my Montauk daisy for the cold whiteness of winter, I found a green squatter…

…the squatter hopped away after being kissed by quite a bit of rain.

I captured this glimpse right before more rain danced all the autumn blooms awake.

My blood orange isn’t blooming, but she’s gilded… in celebration of the Marine Corps Birthday—241 years of history shouldn’t go unnoticed. And yes, I’m missing that yesterday… Not the periods away from home, or the eyes that silently screamed, Your vagina doesn’t belong in my penis world—I will never miss those. But I miss the joy that bloomed with every lesson learned… especially the one that always reminds me that an unfit leader doesn’t define me, my Corps, or my values.

Dearest ivy, gilded herself yellow…

…and the Montauk daisies bloomed all the way (I think ivy likes the taste of pollen).

The mango plant is growing and probably dreaming Caribbean dreams… Mango always does.
*I often dream similar dreams*

My beloved passiflora darling got pruned and repotted… She is adoring her new home.

Refusing to be outdone by an indoor ivy, a neighboring outside maple tree gilded an evergreen.

Yes, the inhabitants of my urban jungle (and their outdoor neighbors) are always blooming with tales that vine and root through Uncertainty’s hold, morphing her pricks and pangs into soft susurrations.

When the sun comes out to play, I shall walk my woods—old trees dance great tales. I need to hear their, This too shall pass tunes. Chaos will spin. We will turn with it. And tomorrow will be… When life shakes too wildly, I reach for root and vine. How do you dance with Uncertainty, my Luvs?