A pair of Alberta spruces flank the step to our front door. They should never have been planted there, the arborist informs us. They are too close to the brick. In the summer, the heat of the brick will scorch them. Why did no one tell us this ten years ago when we began landscaping our new house?
This tree looks presentable from the front. However, the backside is another story. It is dead and each year more branches in the back turn brown, become brittle, then break off.
These trees are slated to be removed, but now we have a problem. A robin discovered an abandoned nest. It was just what she would have built herself, but she was running short on time. She moved in and immediately laid three eggs.
Daily, I check the progress of the eggs. Will this brood be hatched and raised before the tree removal crew arrives? Hopefully the rain has put the tree company behind in their work.
My friend arrived for dinner one evening with sly smile and a mischievous glint in her eye. As she is reaching into her purse, she is saying, “I have a present for you and a job.” It is with great apprehension that I take the small brown paper bag from her hands. My mind is swirling, wondering how the gift and the task are related.
I peek into the bag and relief floods through my veins. This is a job I will enjoy. I pull out four strands of beads. She continues to explain how on a recent trip she went to a turquoise mine in Albuquerque. At the end of the tour she was in a room full of beads and the ladies of the tour were snatching up strand after strand of the beads. She goes on to tell me, “I bought you and me a strand, because I knew you could do something with them.”
I love to play with beads, so this was a challenge I relished, if there were no time constraints put upon me. “No rush,” she tells me. Good, I think because soon my work in schools will be finished and I will have time to play with the style of the necklace.
The next week, the bead store puts out their newsletter with classes listed. My eyes light upon the wire wrapped Tree of Life. That might make the perfect pendant for the turquoise necklace. I did this class several years ago, but cannot remember the process, so this would be a perfect refresher course.
Saturday morning I have my stone and wire ready. There are only two of us in the class, I rejoice in that (lots of personal attention at my point of difficulty). Slowly we create a tree from wire. I brought my iPad to record steps in the process for reference later. Two hours fly by and I have a little bit of work left to finish at home.
Once the tree is complete, I need to figure out how to arrange the turquoise stones to create the necklace. I string a few beads, add some seed beads. It becomes a dance of the beads as I string, remove, restring, remove, until I am satisfied with the results. I bring my nearly completed necklace to my friend for a length check and approval. She loves the pendant and we decide to lengthen it just a bit.
It’s back to the playground of beads for me as I try to find complementing beads to create the next necklace.
Darkness surrounds me, my body snuggles a bit deeper into the mattress, as I pull the covers a little closer. Sounds from the kitchen tell me my husband is up and preparing for his day of work. I’m not working today, which allows me the luxury of drifting in and out of sleep for a bit longer.
Just as I begin the slide back into the dreaming world, there is a thud followed by a thump. Instantly, my eyes pop open to determine what had so rudely brought me to a conscious state. My husband rushes into the room, worried that I have fallen, his words escaping before his eyes take in the scene, “Are you all right?” he queries with concern.
In the dim light of the early morning, I notice the closet door, previously closed, now ajar. The overhead light reveals a vase that had been standing on the floor of the closet decided to recline rather than remain upright. As it fell over, a domino effect was in play. The vase hit the closet door causing a thump as it pushed the door open, which was followed by a thud when landing on the floor.
Sleep is no longer an option. It is time to greet the day. The offending vase is now placed upon a shelf, hopefully a more stable footing, so there will be no repeat of the morning thump, thud.