Friday Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. Photos – no words – capturing moments from the week. Simple, special, extraordinary moments. Moments you want to pause, savour and remember. “This Moment” is a ritual found on  SouleMama’s blog then grabbed by the Wee Man which was lifted from Almost there by Sarah-Jane and snagged from Alejandro.

It’s been a while since I’ve participated in this lovely tradition but I’m happy to be with you this week. Life has been “interesting” as of late and, yet, I find myself thankful for all that is good in my life and the people who glisten and sparkle in it.

My BFF, all the way back from when we were “cool” middle schoolers, surprised me with this beautiful angel sent with love from Canada. She had no idea of the recent events in my life but she “believes” in me and was prompted to send it. She was not aware my tiny Christmas tree is adorned with angels (go figure). Isn’t that how best friends grace us? On a mystic level? Have a blessed holiday season and remember who and what makes it special. . .

Hockey Season!

Thanks to upi.com

I didn’t know if I was going to be handed a kielbasa or punched in the face. That was a great atmosphere to start the game. The nice thing was being able to suck the life out of the place by our play. You really like that feeling.

~Coach Kevin Dineen on the raucous atmosphere at Nassau Coliseum before Florida’s 2-0 opening-night win against the Islanders

Unless you are living in shed with no Wi-Fi, Fox Sports, XM, cell towers, Versus, any radio access, TV, or people, you  know it’s “that time” again.  No, I wasn’t referring to baseball!  The FL Panthers started out strong with their 2-0 win against the Islanders only to crash and burn when they came up against the Pens, but, hey! It’s the birth of a new season so there’s still time for the Panthers to get in the groove.  Here’s hoping for a win Saturday night against the Lightening.  In the meantime, my boy, Clemmensen, needs to heal quickly and get back into some net action.  Check out The Rat Trick a blog my buddy, Dave Lasseter, writes for to get the latest news about the Panthers.  Happy, happy hockey!

Autumn’s Spell

Today is one of those beautiful, fall SoFlo days that causes me to spout poetry like October by Frost or To Autumn by Keats. Every since I was a small girl, I was enthralled by the autumn sea breezes turned windy that mussed my hair and toyed with my dress’s hem.

As an adult, when I see the wind blustering through the arecas, the first thought skipping through my mind is whether or not my allergies are going to attack my sinuses and mess with my lungs. But then, memory, that all important muse, prods me into romanticizing fall like I did when I was a child and I am under autumn’s spell once more (armed with Clarinex).

So I can relive those milkweed moments from years ago when I spotted the pods opening and the tiny seedlings with fluff rising like nature’s balloons into the air. I can celebrate the first periwinkle morning glory that graces the fence. I can feel connected to that little blonde haired girl obsessed with growing things, stooping down to get a closer view of the green acorns, rubbing sage between her fingers and smelling it’s savory perfume–I can just be.

The Haunting

October breathes reflection for me. There’s a supernatural quality to this particular month that evokes sentimental remembrances. Whether it’s because of the changes reflected in nature that strip life down to its bare, autumnal branches, I’m not sure. What I am certain of is the fluctuating nature of life.

Have you ever been haunted?  Truly chilled by specters in the form of uncanny experiences that won’t let you forget past loves or childhood’s embrace? To stand in a particular space and sense a gauzy veil has lifted and you can feel, see and almost touch your past, your joys, your sorrows?

These spirits persist in fingering our souls with their icy bittersweet hands. They haunt us, disguised as filmy apparitions of people who caressed our lives so that, while time unmercifully shoves us forward, our memories, our subconscious, resuscitates them, breathes life into them, and clothes them with skin, flesh, and bones.

So when people cross our paths who remind us of these persons in our pasts, we feel the coolness of shadows. In the shadows, a darkness which briefly flits across our hearts and is the complete opposite of warmth and sunlit freedom and meadows.

These phantoms reach and clutch and we rarely escape unscathed. Our minds, in an effort to deal with the mausoleum of preserved memories, try to wrap themselves around the mysterious and cannot make sense of it. It’s too evasive–too mettlesome to grapple.

We press forward and eventually break away from their grasps. Time, once more, fills our lives with flurries of work, bills, and children. We forget–until the next haunting.