fruit fly away

I always believed myself to be a person who loved all creatures, big and small. It’s true…I befriend even the tiniest of ants, carrying them on pieces of paper and hurry to the door in hopes of their lifelong freedom, their quest to the big anthill, or wherever else they choose to roam. Their life surely can’t end at the bottom of my shoe, however cute it may be. Yet, as of late, when I look in the mirror, I see an entirely different face looking back at me. Yes. I have become a murderer...of fruit flies. It’s true. And admittedly, it's not even haphazard; it is quite diligent and purposeful. These flying invasions have infested my dear Friend, hovering in swarms around him, pestering his quiet, peaceful life. Not ok. Really not ok.

What’s a girl to do? Save friend. Kill enemies. Any way you can. What other choice do I have? And thus an assassin was born.

Various methods you may wonder: Swatting, (ineffective, though gratifying), apple cider vinegar—pft. Home remedies have proven minor leagues for these buggars. To the Garden Nursery I wandered. Here is where I was met face to face with another one of mine foes…GASP….chemicals. Indeed I did (arm twisted) buy non-organic and use in my home. What one will do for a friend in need (to which, I have applied with no avail). Last option: repotting.

I am part Italian, but my doing-away-with-the-fly’s skills seem to be lacking in quelque chose. Ah French, so much for the Italian. 

For now, I do what I do best, love. That's me anyway. Love him…yes, a plant, whose name is simply, Friend…put him out in the sunshine on beautiful days, hum to his leaves, and maybe, just maybe violently slaughter a fly or two in eyesight. 

the tree

I make no excuses for myself. If I could however, I would say that the biting cold took hold of my will to acquiesce to the wanderings upstairs. I would admit awkwardly and unabashedly to being more parts animal than human in my winter hibernation mode, burrowing warm in isolation until the first buds appear. But, I make no excuses myself. I should have written to you dear screen…my love. You called many a times, and I shunned you guiltily. Yet, the sun is shining today...  Take me where thou wilt? …

It takes a moment to get there…it was, as always just you and I. I saw our tree resting in an open meadow, surrounded by green, stoic and lonely at the same time, its leaves bellowing a grace only nature can yield with every movement of the wind.  The sky wasn’t quite blue, but all shades of dove grey and salmon. The air was warm  and welcome on my skin. The meadow seemed like the ocean, no end to the horizon, just emerald rolling hills. My feet found their way to you on top of the cool, soft grass and we lay under our tree for the night. My head nuzzled its way into the crook of your chest, your arms wrapped around me entirely, and my legs entangled in yours. This is our place…under this tree. This is where I come to meet you in my dreams.

Seems I’ve waited my whole life for you. 

the calmness of it all

This may seem like an odd picture...however, I really heart my bag. It deserved a little spotlight.

As such...I found this smile-enducing.