New Growth

As we tumble head first into Spring, enjoying the warmer weather and shedding the layers of clothing we've grown accustomed to wearing over the last six months, let's not forget new growth. There are buds and green foliage popping up all around us. Life expanding. Trees get bigger. Flowers bloom. Fruits blossom.

This morning, I saw this new growth in my garden:

This makes me think about the importance of growth within myself. With all of us. How we need to flower and bloom and grow to be happy. It happens in many ways. For me, I plan to read and walk an learn more. Growth is essential for living, to develop into the people we want to be. To change and thrive.

It motivates me to be a better person.

Daffodil

This morning I took the big guy for a walk and along the section of road were a hundred daffodils. 

I am grateful for that splash of yellow on an otherwise grey day. 

Even when things are hard, nature can pull a smile form me. 

She Let's Her Hair Down

Guys don't hit on me.

A bold statement if I've ever made one.

Well, it's true.

My ex, we will call him Jay, once told me that I am severely unapproachable. When someone speaks to me out in the wild, I instantly have a 'get away from me' and 'don't touch me unless you want to lose a hand' vibe going on. This may have been the case seven years ago when I was living in the city and cultivated a harder exterior after one too many run-ins with yahoos and wack-a-doos on the street.

These days, I like to think I'm softer. Not only because I've let my workout regime fall to the wayside, but because I've grown up a lot. I've matured. And I stopped shaving my armpits and have embraced a nice frolic through the dewy morning grass. One of those last things isn't true. I'll let you decide on your own because I feel all readers should be involved in what they are reading to some extent.

For example, I'm not going to tell you my surroundings or what I am wearing as I type this because I firmly believe you have enough of an imagination to come up with that information on your own. In actuality, you really shouldn't be thinking about what I am wearing or where I am while I write this. It has nothing to do with the content of the article, nor does it make reading it any more enjoyable.

Back to the subject at hand. I like to think I'm not so unapproachable.

Still, guys don't hit on me. Probably because I don't play the damsel in distress very well. I have the whole, I can do it by myself thing going on. And apparently, self-sufficiant women, do not great lovers make. Or so people mistakenly think. Because I am a fantastic...let's not go there.

The truth is, men don't ask to pump my gas, carry my groceries, or query over whether or not I want to partake in a sampling of food or beverages with them. Probably because I am so happy in my current relationship status they already know I'm not available to them. Still, it's because of guys not hitting on me that I am aware of when I am being noticed more than usual. When something doesn't happen, like never ever, and then it starts to happen, you see it. Like, for example, if you never hear birds outside your window and then, one day out of the blue, you hear a sparrow singing his little singsong. You'd take note.

Well, today, I got all sorts of attention from fellas. Ones driving by me. Workers at the grocery store. Random teenagers I let cross in front of my car instead of running over and making pavement paint out of them. Smiles. Nods. Waves. Hellos. Weird starts to conversations like, "There are so many cereals out there, hey?"

Here's the thing: I'm only doing two things differently in life these days.

1. Wearing more dresses
2. Letting my hair down

With the nice weather comes the dresses. In fact, I have waited a very long time for Spring to roll its lazy ass around so I can indulge myself in wearing clothes that I frankly shouldn't be wearing. I mean, I can't bend over in these outfits. And if I do, I better be wearing cute underwear. While this could totally be the reason I've been drawing the attention of Harry, Larry and Bob, I like to think guys don't really notice clothing. I mean, you could seriously ask my Sidekick what I wore on any given day and I doubt he'd actually be able to tell you. Likewise for any dudes I've ever had the pleasure of running into. They'd be able to tell you if my boobs looked good in a shirt, but wouldn't have a clue what was actually on the shirt.

So, dresses to the side, I also got this amazing new shampoo and conditioner from this salon and it seriously rocks my locks. I have been letting loose and leaving the elastic band at home. This crap smells so good, I want to eat it. I catch myself sniffing my hair at awkward moments. No, really. I'm one of those weird hair sniffer people.

Thus, in conclusion, men like it when women wear their hair down. I can only surmise that my lack of attention was due to the fact that I always, like every single freakin' day, wore my hair up in a messy sort of bun. Now the curly tendrils are tickling my back and the air has shifted. Perhaps it makes me more approachable, or maybe guys just like the looks of long flowing hair, either way, I think I've just cracked the attraction code.

Or perhaps I am mistaken and spring has simply sprung.

R Is For Rotting

Of course, a lot of you are probably thinking I'm going to start yammering on about hacked off body parts and gooey gashes, and I might. But when I selected 'rotting' for the subject, I was actually thinking off the change in season, not gory slasher flicks or reanimated corpses. 

Everything on the forest floor is turning to rot and the scent of decaying undergrowth is present. The earth is squishy beneath your feet. Every step you take there is a squish and, when you take another, a squash. Mud takes over. The grass is drowned in the autumnal showers. Plants, flowers, leaves and trees wither, their branches droop, the buds and petals fall to the ground, and start to disappear, desperate to avoid the long winter months. 

They say spring and summer are the most colourful, and that might be true, but Autumn is gorgeous, even with the vast amount of decomposition. The oranges and yellows, browns and greens, reds and purples. And, yes, it rains more than a widow cries, but when the sun shines through, it illuminates nature, setting fire to it and capturing the spark of the season. 

And the skeletal leaves are amazing. Have you ever seen one? A rotting, ageing leaf? The flesh dropping away exposing only the veins. They litter the ground, shadows of their former selves, and are macabre and beautiful. It truly is breathtakingly gorgeous. 

The sights of summer rotting and falling away are one thing, but the smells are another. In a vlog I posted about a month ago, I commented on how I could smell fall. It was only a hint, but I picked up on it, and in less than a week the leaves and air had shifted. Summer was moving to the side and Autumn was storming in, unpacking its bags and making itself cosy for the next couple months. It's the shift in season that I smelled, but as it grows stronger, it's rotting. Not of flesh. As we all know, that is a stench one can't get rid of. Or maybe we all don't know that. 

No, the scent is of rotting leaves, fungi, branches, bark, and everything else that falls away. 

This is a depressing time for people. To see everything shift and change. The warmth drifts away. Cold storms in. Colours shift from vibrant colours to browns and blacks. Our tans fade. And we start worrying about Christmas. But it doesn't depress me. Not the rain. Or the death of the foliage around me. It's actually invigorating. 

And just think about how lovely the spring will be when it arrives and the buds of life start peaking out from beneath the layer of cobweb leaves. 

Just for the record, it was really hard not to talk about flesh bits dropping off bone, but I decided to save that for the letter 'Z'. I know you're all waiting for that with your breath held in anticipation.