Parading It on the Front Porch

On my way home from my OutandAbouts today, I took the backroads.

It’s how I roll.

I’d rather take a backroad anywhere than ride on the main roads.  Especially with all this construction of the main highway near our house–I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse before it gets better.

So I drove through the old part of our little community, stopped at the four-way, crossed, and drove past the log cabin that we all love.  They have the best decorating sense–exactly my taste: old farmhouse style.

I was on autopilot, so I almost missed what was sitting on the other side of the road.  Up next to the little road, since they were throwing it out.  As I glanced back, I could see that it was an old broken chair of sorts.

It is not far to go from there to the stop sign near the old church and its cemetery; but I promise you that, in my imagination, I had used that chair in about five different ways and places around my abode before I could STOP at the sign.  I was about to shrug it off and keep on trucking home, when I thought about it once more before my foot pressed the gas to move forward.

Forward.  That’s exactly what I need to do.  Move.  Forward.

A lot of times I let life happen to me and a lot of those times I have no choice.  But many times I do.  And way too often I just shrug an idea or plan off, and go on with whatever is in front of me.

Sometimes that’s okay.  But sometimes I wind up regretting–that which I did not try.

And somehow I had a feeling that if I didn’t go back for the chair, I would regret it.  A small thing, I know, but I knew it was symbolic of bigger, more important things.  If there’s something there for the taking, and I want it, why do I just walk (or drive) away?

I don’t know.

But what I do know is that today I didn’t.

I turned the go-mobile around and headed back down the street where the speed limit is about 15 I think.  I pulled over, turned on my hazards just in case, and opened the door to load it.  There were broken pieces laying on the ground.  I picked them all up and threw them in the vehicle.  I didn’t want to be that kind of scavenger–one who just takes the goody and leaves the other.  If I was in, I was ALL in.

This evening after the sun drifted behind the trees back of us, giving us a little bit of a reprieve from the heat, I unloaded the pieces.  It was a beautiful rocker in its heyday.  Nice wood, solid.  I can’t imagine how it came to be all broken like this.  Maybe fell off the back of the truck as they were moving?  Someone got scared late one night playing in the yard, and knocked it off the porch in their haste to get inside?  Too much wear and tear and not enough know how for fixing it?  I don’t know.  But I’m tickled to say I found a spot for all the pieces.  It was fun and only a little challenging to find a use for all of it.  I think my porch is the better for it.  Not sure the Fella feels the same, but since he didn’t express a preference, it’s staying put for a while.

This is my “Phoenix” tomato plant.  I don’t know what variety it is really, but it rose from an empty pot–there was nothing alive there in April and now look at her.  Better than she ever did last summer.  Amazing.  Rising from the ashes, just like a phoenix.  I was proud to give her a spindle as the high-falutin’ stake she deserves.

This was my belated Mother’s Day project.  A fairy garden.  The birdbaths are especially dear to me–the frog is for Mama and the cardinal for Daddy.  The arm off the old rocker makes an interesting backdrop I think.  We could even hang a fairy swing from it later on if we find one around here–which I’m sure we will.  😉

This plant has never looked so happy.  Neither has Madam Frog, as long as the cats don’t knock her off.  There’s a little fairy wishing well in the pot if you look closely.  I love this old broken rocker turned plantstand.  I don’t know if it’s too tacky to be quaint by normal standards, but around here we embrace the brokenness.  And the crazy.  And we parade them all on our front porch.  Literally.

This was a good day.  It felt good to have a vision, and instead of thinking of a million reasons why I shouldn’t do it–go and pick up a broken rocking chair that once belonged to the folks who live right there and are probably watching thinking “whoo hoo it’s gone” or “can you believe that crazy chick is actually loading that into her go-mobile?”–I just took a deep breath, leapt, and did it.  I know it’s a small, small thing.  It’s not like starting a non-profit or writing a book that can change the world.  It’s not like putting grief aside and moving along towards a new and different future.  It’s not even like doing something handy such as making a clever supper out of minimal ingredients or having all of the laundry done and folded AND put away all at once.

But it is a step.  A baby step.  And one that fed my soul on this sultry summer evening.  And for a Thursday in June, that’ll do.

May you have a vision and go for it without thinking too hard.  Just go forward.

Love to all.