This and that...

Cold cold nights and super cold early mornings... and if it isn't cold it is rain and cold... but yesterday we had a nice break... a glorious day indeed, with bright soft sunshine making everything look magical and warmer than it had been for weeks... I wanted to go out and discover what surprises the wood fairies had left there for me to uncover...

Graced by filtered sun light I walked the paved path that leads beyond the dormant roses right into the woods....

Dreaming this and that.... 

Flowing skirts...

Silk tights like roses tattooing my legs and feet...

Whilst marvelous plump little creatures gathered by the dozens in the birdbath for a nice respite under the sun, amongst all the wild vines that creep around the big trees.

Well, this spectacular meeting did actually happen the day after Thanksgivings and ever since I haven't been blessed with this vision again... a miracle it was indeed, as I was reading that the Eastern Bluebird don’t often visit backyards feeders or birdbaths...

These pictures make me so happy... they remind me of those cold days in February back at the house in the roses when all of a sudden, like a miracle, the quieted winter garden would come alive with the songs of dozens of robins....  

I'm starting to feel restless for a home of our own... but the quest for that perfect home is almost becoming a unreachable dream by now... and at times, despair clings from the hem of my soul; discouragement whispers nasty words in my ears... You see, it has proved difficult to find a nice home within our price range around here, and my soul has started to feel a certain prang of homelessness... the un-rooted soul that needs to be planted, to be able to plant perennials and enjoy them forever; plant its own trees and flowers and watch them grow and grow.... plant my soul and watch it blossom.

Our rented shed is still filled to the brim with boxes and furniture we haven't been able to figure out what to do with, and I haven't even started unpacking my little heart... yearning for my little things and treasures I cannot find among the chaos of remembrances... I need to unpacked my life and regain it back. I need to snuggle in my nest made of roses; be rooted in my own little world like the dove in her nest in the Sally Holmes roses by our bedroom window back at the house in the roses...

Shall the gardens at the house in the roses be our last gardens? 

I have not a clue. 

But, if you would take some time to wander with me just a little longer 

 perhaps we'd both be tickled beyond belief?

Oh I so hope so!