IMPERFECT Lady

Covering Up my Truth.

I listened to Jane Fonda speaking about her life, and I wasn't able to write it down word for word, but what she had to say struck me.

How our survival self stands in the way of us growing up and becoming whole.

I know this is true.  

She said, "I stepped out of myself to live next door to me, in a shell of perfection."

This shell is pretending to not be hurt and abused, but to be 'okay' and 'normal'. We have to act like this, in order to maintain the family's image and good front.  It soon becomes who we are, it grows thicker and thicker, the longer we live this way.

She also said that the tool we use to survive, becomes the tool that is the obstacle for becoming whole.

I see it as the shell has to be taken down in order to get back to your own self, and this shell is the facade we lived as to be normal and okay.  Removing this wall brings us to our truth.

Our truth is scary on many levels.  For one it is not accepted by our parents and others who want to remain in their shells.  And it was terrifying knowing that I lived as a shell, but not me. That my truth wasn't who I had lived as.

I knew my shell much better than I knew who I was and my history.  As a shell I constructed things to look better than they appeared. Friendlier, kinder and more loving.  Outside of the shell it was like all my friends became enemies.

Yet, without ever leaving the shell of pretend, I would not have grown up...I would have remained stunted and as immature as a child inside; a wounded child.

It is funny, in a peculiar way, that we believe we can add things to cover up our abuse, and that we can grow around it.  But, in the end, we end up with a pretty, perfect shell, and a yucky inside.

Our outer appearance can't change how we feel inside.

This is the mad dance and marathon...forever adding something on the outside to help boost our self esteem.  I couldn't be good enough, smart enough or cute enough to erase the abuse.

Once I sat down with my wounded child, I was able to begin growing as me.

No more shells.  

No more pretending.  

Instead I began falling in love with me...broken, abused, but real.  

I loved my real self and had to say good bye to the shell.  

The shell that helped me survive my childhood had followed me into adulthood.  

Jane is right, the shell that kept me surviving my childhood, also kept me from being whole and me.

So in order to become me, I had to leave my shell behind.

My shell was the shield that kept my real feelings from showing.

Kept me from pleasing myself, but always pleased others.

It shielded me from becoming too emotional and loving, from being open and vulnerable.  My soft spot remained behind this thick wall.

I remember my husband commenting, in the very early days of my father's exposure, that I was like a scared rabbit.  And I was.  I was walking around fully exposed without my shell.

God, those early days were brutal.  Living life without a shell had me feeling extremely naked...and bloody.  The image of a wound.

I was walking around as a wound...without a shell. No longer able to pretend that I wasn't abused.

Until you can heal the wound you are very sensitive...with your nerves exposed.

Now, I feel my wound is healed.

Shell long discarded...and I am growing up. 

My insides are matching my body.

I no longer am a grown woman, wearing a shell, to cover up my wounded child.

I am now grown woman who was wounded as a child...who grew up as I mothered my own wound, by no longer covering up my truth.

Matches Reality

What has been so extremely enthralling and terrifying is how my mind can see reality totally opposite of how it actually is.  How I could live blind of not only what I was doing, but that of others as well.  How I could disregard my feelings and believe my thoughts in my head.

Unless, you have woken up to the reality of your own life, this concept will seem completely nuts.

The only thing that truly changed in my world, was my perceptions.  Nothing else changed.  The people were still acting as they always had, I just could now see them.

It wasn't that my father suddenly turned into a pedophile, instead I suddenly realized that my body was telling the truth.  My body's fear was justified.

The only thing that suddenly happened is that I realized that my mind was all messed up.  

I stood outside of my mind looking at the way it had created a life for me that wasn't true.

My awareness had reached a new level.  

One of the last conversations I had with my mother, she correctly stated, "You and I have two different perceptions of Ray."  

Absolutely!

It is amazing that she knew this. And I exclaimed back to her, "Yes, and my perception is that he is a pedophile and in the Houghton County Jail!"

What my mother's mind and mine, could not agree with is, who is the real Ray?

It isn't that reality isn't always there, but that our minds are not allowing us to see it.

My mother's perceptions would not allow her to see him as a pedophile.  And that alone doesn't make him NOT one.  Yet, in her world she acts like it is so...because her mind is closed to new information.  She has her mind made up, and nothing in reality will sway it otherwise. 

Standing against my mother, allowed me to stand with reality.

What amazes me is that she believes there ARE two choices in reality....when actually, there is only one.  One is the truth, the other is not.  There truly can be many perceptions of the truth, but only one of them matches reality.

Get us back

As I was mowing the grass yesterday, I wondered if all Mental Illnesses mean you are not in reality?  That the meaning of being ill in your mind, is when you can't see or be with reality? While there are different stages of not being in reality, are all various degrees... being removed from what is truly going on?

What I do know from my experience, is that as a child of abuse, IF you can't speak of it, and must hide it, you are forced to live in an alternate reality...you could say forced to make your mind come up with a nicer version of where you live.  And this is the seed that starts our Mental Illness.

The beginning of being 'sick' with reality.  

I think many will focus or see "Mental Illness" as a mind that has gone wrong, but not how or what its causes are.  Just seeing it as a broken mind, but not looking at this from a wider viewpoint, doesn't give the overall picture of what it truly means as an application in life?

Perception is all we change when we are asked to keep a secret.

We are not changing the person who has abused us, JUST our perceptions of him/her.

And this change of perception is the cause or being mental in reality.

What many have suggested to me, is that I went mental, when I flopped into reality and became unmoveable there.  I would no longer 'change my perception' I became rooted in reality, no matter their pleads, their reasons, their needs....I was like a rock.

I clung to reality like it was my life line and I refused to let go.  

Now I know that my life prior was a life of mental illness, where a huge proportion of it was lived with incorrect perceptions.

What I didn't know is that I was a highly functioning mental lady...at the time.  I was not able to know my perceptions were all wrong about my childhood and family.  

Knowing this is common place after abuse, makes me normal.

Here is what Terry Wise wrote in her book, "Waking Up".

"Does not talking about it allow you to become less aware of it?" (Betsy her therapist asked)

"I guess not," I replied, suddenly realizing that of course, I was always aware of the things that bothered me.  But, prompting a more extensive discussion about my anxiety by admitting this to Dr. Glaser was another matter. "Regardless, it still feels worse to talk about it," I continued."

"It may feel worse at first, Terry. But, I believe in facing our feelings head on, not running from them. Talking about the anxiety over and over again will give you a different understanding of it.  If you develop a different understanding, you will eventually feel less anxious," Betsy said, attempting to reassure me."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't hate talking about how I feel," I replied."

"What feelings do you hate talking about?"

"Anxiety and loneliness. Even when I am with people, I feel alone."  I soon learned that the more uncomfortable or anxious I became, the more Betsy pushed. What's more, from this session forward, she always knew when to push, as my discomfort was written in red, all over my face."

"Do you ever remember feeling like this before?" she asked."

"Like what:" I stalled."

"Anxious, alone, or anything else you are feeling right now," Betsy sighed rolling her eyes at having to drag every word out of me."

"Yes, plenty of times. Except for the years Pete was healthy, I've probably felt like this most of my life.  I've never felt so disconnected," I explained.  My face instantly began to flush again.  I had always been an expert at creating appearances, choosing when and where to maintain my composure. That was over.  My anatomy forced my hand."

"Terry, why are you so anxious? What haven't you told me?" she persisted. I could hardly hear her words over the pound calypso drums that now inhabited the inside of my heart."

"I don't want to say."

"Why not?"

"Because, then it will become true," I replied, surprising myself with the insight.  Until I voiced this answer, even I had never been fully aware of this fear."

"I don't understand.  Explain that to me," Betsy demanded.

"Because saying things out loud is different.  If I don't put some of my thoughts into words, I can still hold onto the chance that my beliefs may not be true,"  I explained. Somehow I had deduced that hearing my thoughts aloud could transform a feeling into a reality."

"But if you talk about your thoughts, maybe there will be a different way to understand them," Betsy suggested.

"There isn't any other way.  I already understand exactly what I'm feeling. Believe me Betsy, I know certain things about myself, and they are undeniable no matter how you look at them," I insisted."

"There are always other ways. Terry, do you remember how you felt when I first talked about Louis and the abuse?  You've felt like this before, but after you talked, your perspectives changed in ways that you hadn't perdicted. What are these 'things' that you know about yourself? What are you so afraid to say out loud?"

"Anxiety throbbed in every organ of my body. Even my tongue felt like it had a heart of its own.  Throughout my adult life, I had numerous experiences with public speaking. Even if I was rattling inside, my complexion had never changed, and I always remained poised.  Now however, I had no choice but to step forward."

"Mostly its that I am a fraud," I confessed, inhaling deeply."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not the person that people think I am. There is so much about me that people don't know."

"What don't they know?" Betsy asked."

"They don't know how I feel about life or myself. Generally, people think I have my shit together, that I am confident, and self-assured. I've scammed everyone into believing that I'm someone I'm not," I answered.

"So then tell me, Terry, who are you?" Betsy asked.

"I would rather not say."

"Why not?"

"Because, like I told you, once I say it, it will be for real," I repeated."

"You mean that as long as you don't say the words, how you feel won't be real?" Betsy would not let up for a moment."

"I suppose," I answered, feeling her reasoning loosen my stronghold."

"Please Terry.  I want you to tell me what it is about you that you are so afraid to say," Betsy softly pleaded.  Her persistent kindness gave me a final push."

"I'm selfish and dishonest," I whispered, slowly peeling back another layer of my appearances."

"Why do you think you are dishonest?" she asked."

"Because I've alway needed to feel someone worry about me. When I was younger used to pretend or exaggerate things, so that my friends would be concerned. there is definitely something wrong with me." Until the moment the answer rolled off my tongue, I had always planned on taking this "quality" of mine to my grave. I immediately felt my anxiety rise incrementally with every degree of my body tempature."

"Why do you think that makes you dishonest?" Betsy was surprisingly unfazed."

"Because, I did those things for attention, and to feel taken care of.  My feelings are not truthful if I embellish them."

"Terry, I think if we look closely enough at your history, and the people in your life, you would see that others were not always able to give you what you needed.  This isn't a surprise. Obviously, nobody can get every one of their needs met all the time. But, I think what is remarkable is that you found a way to fill some of them.  This does not mean you were dishonest.  it just means you found a way to get what you were missing," Betsy explained."

"No, Betsy.  I always felt cared for and loved by the people in my life.  I was born with a sickness.  I know it," I insisted."

"You could have been cared for and loved, while at the same time, had needs that weren't being met.  It's not black or white, or either-or, Terry," Betsy replied.  "What sickness do you think you were born with?"

"I don't know. There's something wrong with me because I am the type of person that I am, and the attention I crave."

"What type of person are you?"

"I finally decided to brave my most private, defining, character flaw. "It's hard to tell you. But, I guess it doesn't matter saying it, or not saying it, won't change the fact that it's true," I began, inching out from behind one of my most private walls of self-condemnation."

"What Terry? What's the truth?" Betsy softly asked, trying to cushion my turmoil."

"The truth is that I am a loser."  My mouth felt like it had produced its own sounds."  Terry Wise.

This book clearly shows the state we get left in when we are not allowed to be with reality....how we flip reality around and in turn it flips us backwards.

Instead of my father being bad, I was.

Instead of my mother being unloving, I was unlovable.

So, again, it is my humble opinion, that mental illness is not being able to be with reality...we were forced into being mental in order to survive and to be loved.

I highly recommend reading this book...it is a great exchange between those outside of reality and those who work to get us back.

Ladies Day in Marquette.

Our Ladies Day Trip, to see the quilts hanging at the Sweet Water Cafe.

"Inner Joy" welcomed us as we entered...

My girlfriend had suggested we go and see the quilts, and I am glad we did.  It was fun and almost surreal to eat in a cafe with your artwork gracing the walls. 

 "Inner Joy" is sold....as Well as "Beach House Days"....

The picture is a bit blurry, but this is the wall it was on at the Cafe.

Ursula also has a sheet of paper where you can leave comments to the Artist.  I had two... It was fun to read what others think about my art.

My friend and I then shopped, had a treat at Starbucks and shopped some more. We ate at Latitudes down by the water front.

Truly enjoyed the company and meal!  It was a perfect place for our dinner.

It was a special day for both of us...spending time, and ourselves, with each other. It was not a coincidence we met...for each have always felt it was our destiny.

I call her my sister friend...for we have trusted each other to share our deepest pains...as well as our successes and joys of life.  

 Thanks Kirsten for spending the day with me...taking the time to honor my accomplishment, I appreciate it.

My quilts will be there until June 19th at 3pm.

Climbing through the darkness...

Last night at Dial Help,  we learned a bit about suicide.  Some of the statistics are shocking and then, not so much.

There are 35,000 who die each year...more than in war or disasters.

90% have mental health issues.

The dialogue when dealing with suicide is to be very direct and use the terms about killing yourself or wanting to die; to not shy away from the word suicide.  And to go into the dark place they are standing in.  

What I learned is that you can be squeezed into a dark spot, either by being overwhelmed with life, or when you have no life at all. Both are critical positions to be stuck in.

I just didn't know that rising to the highest of standards can be just as stressful and life sucking or detrimental to your spirit as a life without meaning.  

We watched a short clip from Author and Attempt Survivor, Terry Wise who wrote a book called, "Waking Up; Climbing through the darkness.  If you go to her website, you can watch it too.  Just google her name and book title.

First of all, I didn't even know the term, "Attempt Survivor", but like it.  

Terry spoke of how in our lives we push things aside and dont' deal, and that they sit on simmer.  When a tragic event occurs, all our simmering pots hit full boil, and we then are instantly overwhelmed.  This makes perfect sense to me.  I experienced the full boil of a thousand hurts.

 I wrote down, "Suicide doesn't stand alone," and that we have to look at events before and even all the way back into childhood.  And she said, "Good therapy is like an archeologist, you keep digging and going deeper."

Her therapist also suggested writing, which she did...

I continue to learn about human suffering, pain, and how we deal or don't deal and the consequences.  And how important it is to stay with the feelings and emotions...to follow the person into their darkest places, to be the enlightened witness, so they don't have to suffer alone.

I think, my knee jerk reaction is to fix and problem solve and not to just be with them while they express what they are feeling.  It is a re-learning process for me to focus on the feelings and emotions; to not push them away.

Oddly, we are emotional beings, and yet we are so uncomfortable being with emotions.  It is more 'comfortable' to skirt the emotions and work on fixing the problems or finding solutions, than it is to just plop down in the middle of extreme darkness.

And it is when you are in such a dark place, you need it the most.  

The ability to just witness their pain, is something we are learning to do.  Just to sit with them awhile.  To let them live one more day.  

Terry also wrote about learning just to endure life, and then to tolerate life....and to manage living.

She is right, "Climbing through the darkness...."

Filled by Me

"If you don't know the kind of person I am and I don't know the kind of person you are a pattern that others made may prevail in the world and following the wrong god home, we may miss our star."  William Stafford

"Like that old saying, "Water fills a hole," the ways of others will fill the space we live in if we don't fill that space with our own authentic presences. For a long time, I thought that keeping who I am to myself was the same thing as being myself quietly. I discovered it is not."

"Not that we have to verbalize or shout everything, but we do need to be fully here the way a cliff accepts a wave, the way a stem of clover grows into the one patch of light in the forest, the way corn sweats its sweet moisture when no one is looking."

I read this by Mark Nepo and then went to do yoga.

What came to me is that we don't even know we are being filled by others until you try and go against what you have always done, and meet with great friction.

Two forces meeting.

One is you and the other is another person's wishes, happiness or desire.

If you have always left yourself behind and catered to others, it will not be easy to switch....serving yourself first and them last.  They will holler or respond negatively.

I think many who are seeking to change, believe it will be met with smiles and hugs...and quickly retreat when met with opposition.

The harder it is to change, the more volume of other is in your world...and the smaller your sense of self is.

I used to be very strong for others.  I would help carry the weak, support the unhappy, organize the unorganized, etc...I was very good for others, but very weak for me.

The me signal was so weak, it seldom arrived.  My no or resentment was whispered faintly to myself, silently...while I put on a co-operation face and attended to other.

The content of my life had just a very small percentage that was honest me.

Honest me, was small and weak and not much for confrontations, and certainly uncomfortable with friction or disappointment in other's face.

There comes a point in life when there just isn't anymore to give, when you are saturated with others needs, while you are dying from the inside out.

I didn't know how I would gracefully exit my old way of doing things, how to get my voice back, how to utter no...instead of always saying yes, but I was tired and discontent with me.

What I didn't know, is that the small me was stirring. Like a chicken getting ready to be born, I was chipping away at the things I didn't want to do anymore, and began making excuses...opening space for me to grow.

Spaces being filled by me. 

'Nice' to Me.

"The lies we believe about ourselves can be difficult to see because we are so used to them that they seem normal."  Don Miguel Ruiz

Today while riding along delivering mail, I listened to an old Oprah Show about girls being bullied and just the way girls tend to communicate, very indirectly.  She was speakng to the Author of "The Odd Girl Out".

 How in order to be 'nice' we don't tell each other the truth...that we equate niceness to dealing behind backs, but certainly not directly.

This is the circumference living I was talking about. Where you can tell someone else your true feelings about another, but never to the person in question.

We live one step removed.

Being 'nice' means to not tell the person directly, but to talk about them indirectly.  

Being 'bad' is to have a direct relationship. This is scary and will actually cause you to be excluded...to be in, you have to talk poorly about another....otherwise they will think you are friends with the 'outsiders' and if you are friends with them, you can't be friends with the in crowd.

I know if you are a girl/woman you have experienced this in some form.  And that you also have learned not to speak your truth.  In fact, one girl stated that she has to be a certain way for this group and then be a certain way for that group, or dress a certain way etc, that she has no clue who the real her is.

So, if you escaped the rigid rules of religion, you may have experienced the unwritten rules of being a 'nice' girl.  Nice girls don't tell the truth and they 'like' everyone, and they talk about others when they are not present.

Here is what I know for sure....being a bad girl who spoke directly about what I felt, is that in order to be part of the group, and in my case family, I would have had to do this dance of living indirectly.

I used to talk about others behind their backs...to either fit in or to appear better than, and to spare them my real feelings, I was nice and didn't approach our differences head on.

Now it seems insane.  But I don't recall one person, from my estranged family or even friends who have distanced themselves from me, tell me face to face what their problem was with me.  However, they may discuss the issues they have with me when I am not around to hear.

Most of the girls said that the reasons they act this way, is that they don't want to be alone.  That they feel they must act badly in order to be part of the group. They have to shun those who don't fit in, who dress differently, etc, in order to be part of the group. 

Their biggest concerns in life is to be kicked out and alone.

When girls learn to live one step removed from direct relationships, they learn to live away from their truths, in order to be accepted. Their truths will end relationships.

I totally get this. Where it is more 'normal' for them to not talk about things that hurt them or disturb them, but lie to be nice.  

This lying to be nice is to ignore hurt and anger and pain. And if you don't express it outwardly, it gets shoved inwardly.  It isn't that they don't experience or encounter things that upset them, but in order to remain 'nice' they don't deal with them.

This 'nice' way of living life is doing more damage than anything to our young girls...for they are taught by their peers, that in order to be well liked, you must lie.

They are being taught that in order to be accepted, don't be yourself.  Be what we need you to be. 

I can't but help to think that my sisters are all doing this as well.  I used to be part of them, and we didn't deal well one on one, but we certainly could pull apart the problem behind their back.  I know, I did it.  And I know, as the outsider, how I got here.

I got here by wanting direct frank and truthful relationships.  I wasn't interested in living on the outskirts of my world anymore.

I went against the group.  I became one of the unpopular...

At times, being out here still stings, but for the most part, I am pretty much okay, knowing that the girls I left, truly didn't have my back and my best interests...what they did have was loyalty to the group at large.

This is all done unconsciously...bending to group mentality and knowing intuitively, that if you don't act like the rest, you will be banished.

It is so subtle, that they are not even aware what they are doing, but they know enough to stay way from what is not accepted.  Act differently and out you go.

And there truly isn't one confrontation...no face to face interaction.  It is just this "knowing" you are either with us or we are against you.

All so interesting to see the way girls are taught to be 'nice'.  My sisters are 'nice' to me.

Neglecting None

In last nights role play at Dial Help, we learned about depression, or experienced what it feels like to answer the calls...or even more important, how it feels to sit in the emotion with them or 'try and fix things'.

In my first attempt, I ignored his feelings and worked to solve the situation that circled him like a noose.  While dodging how he felt, I focused on the outliers in his life. Leaving him once again totally alone.

It wasn't intentional, but since he was a 'stranger' I didn't want to get personal and jump feet first into how he felt...instead I was working on the outside structure, that would circuitously lead to reducing his stressful feelings.  Exploring the things that were giving him stress and not his stress, if that makes sense.

The second caller, I jumped in feet first and ignored our strangeness.  And oddly, this call went much better.  I wasn't perfect, but I was perfectly with her feelings. Together we swam and explored the heavy grey, that clouded her world, the juxtaposition about her outer life and how she truly feels inside. 

What I learned is that emotions is our common denominator, we all feel emotions the same way.  Overwhelm is overwhelm...no matter the cause that creates it.

And, that most will not look directly at the pain and stress, but rather the structures that create it...asking the one in pain to see things differently or focus outside instead of inside.

It is so revealing when you sit with emotions, like coming face to face with the truth. And if you worry about the causes, you miss the opportunity to see the person.

What most callers need is for you to see them...and how they feel.  

In our society, or at least the environment that I was raised in, you did whatever you could as to NoT feel.  Or certainly change the negative feelings, by relabeling the outer source or finding excuses, or the favorite, Blessing away the sins that cause you pain.

We become strangers to our emotions...uncomfortable with them.  

I believe that all the emotions we have ignored are not gone away, we didn't miss the opportunity to sit with them awhile, they are all there inside of us, waiting to flow forth.

What I also believe, in some situtations, you get an overwhelming feeling, for behind the emotion file named sadness, you may have 45 years worth of pain to feel...and that is what weighs you down.

Going into the pain, voicing it, feeling it; expressing it....is for the pain to be heard and validated, and that is its purpose.

The purpose of emotions is not to ignore them...but to hear what they are telling you.

I know, for myself, I didn't know my own emotions, I had pushed them down and back for 46 years.  So, when I opened the door, an avalanche of feelings poured out.

I was overwrought with emotions.  And had to teach myself how to deal with them, I literally had to tell myself, "Feel This."  And I wrote about my feelings and emotions.

I stopped looking outside at the circumference of my life, and instead began living from the center.  But first, I had to go back and relive my first 46 years...

Living hand to heart with my emotions. Where in the past, I did everything and anything to not have to feel.  My emotions were bottled up inside, shoved into tight balled fists...resentment, anger, injustice, to name a few...all kept far away from mind and mouth.

When I began to live my center...I had years and years worth to feel, express and voice.  My truth was just waiting for me to see it, hear it and feel it.  I validated me by standing face to face with how I felt.  Even in the darkest emotions, I stood and let the waves of sorrow drip.

Being alive is dancing with each emotion, neglecting none.

Only Way Through It.

I am back doing yoga on a fairly regular basis...and in the last few weeks, my left hip seemed to straighten out, allowing me to walk straighter.  However, with this adjustment, it seems that my left lower back now is feeling the pressure.  It reminds me how connected we are.

The lower left back seems to be out of alignment and in many postures it is very uncomfortable.  Yet, if I relax with my breath in them, it seems to release the tight muscles.  It almost feels like these muscles have been clenched and balled tight, and now I am asking them to release and strengthen.

Instinctively, I want to either back out of the pose or grip even tighter, when what really works is to relax, breath and go deeper.

I am sure this is how we are in all of life's tight spots. It seems un-natural to be with, and to find comfort in pain...to push in further, to breathe and to engage with the pain.  

In yoga, my tender back and jolting nerves are a bit skittish going into poses, but if I take my time, go steady and slow, and enter into the painful spots, I loosen them up and my flexibility expands and my muscles grow stronger.

If I were to follow my fear, I would turn away from my pain.  Doing so would leave me with a body that isn't in alignment and would even deteriorate further.  

Going into the pain is the only way through it...

Surrounded by Nature.

When I thought of how I processed my feelings, being in Nature was also a very key component to me finding my balance.  

I used to walk most days, for my emotions seemed to overwhelm me.  But, once I stepped outside, the Sun greeted me and filled me with emotion that was completely the opposite of being abused.  It was kindness.

This is my view from my front door.

I now walk each day around our property, with Finn.

Some mornings it takes your breath away...fresh, clear, and full of peace.  We head to the river right after the barn... Below is the view along side of the barn. 

We had rain yesterday and everything is so fresh and green.  No bugs this morning, or none that bugged me.

This is our path along the river. Each summer we mow it wider and wider.  Each summer we are losing lawn mowing kids...this summer we are down to one.  So, soon this may all return to hay.  

 This is a dead end road....heading back towards our place.  We mow along the road even.  The pine trees on the left is where Finn and I would walk in the winter to get out of the wind...

Another view....sunshine, green grass, trees.

The field across the road from our home.  There is a mom fox and three babies that play in this field in the evenings.  I have seen her at daybreak, but she isn't around when we take our walks.

And our house...as we make our way back home.  

In two weeks, Finn will be moving with my daughter.  I would like to think, that I would still take morning strolls along the river...we will see.  Our property has been a real oasis...and a perfect place to raise our children, to heal my soul, and an ideal place to walk the dog...a great start to the day.

Secluded and off the beaten path...I am surrounded by nature.