We limp in, or stumble in, or edge in sideways with a hand over one eye or maybe we skirt around the edge for a bit and then fall in. Any which way were still in. A start is a start and humble shaky unsure beginnings I say are perfectly good beginnings
Seems I've created myself a work uniform. Totally by accident which is how I do most things. It started when I turned up at church with a hole in my shirt about a month ago. I was way early which never happens - so I walked to Big W where I happened upon two soft stretchy, ever so comfy long T-shirt’s, cut in a way that they actually have some shape and don't look like bags when they're on. I bought one black, one light grey.
Now I don’t have a balcony or a view of any exotic looking European buildings
What I do have is a great ugly back verandah that the dogs have the run of, It holds fine views of the two rabbit cages, a pumpkin vine gone wild and a lawn that nearly always needs mowing.
But she might be a beauty yet.
They say necessity is the mother of invention.
Well so is 15 year old boy constantly in your earhole about the sheer indecency of having the smallest bedroom in the house, maybe the whole town, possibly the universe
Do anything for twelve days straight and it will make a difference. Something will change or lift or be discovered or take flight. You'll get a grip or get an idea or see things clearer. You'll look better or feel better or maybe your house will too. Not by some far fangled magic or some secret method but in the simple act of doing the thing consistently, of going through the steps and doing the work.
Surprised the heck out of me.
Here's the length and breadth and height and depth of my wisdom at present on how to live life when time seems short but things to do are relentlessly plentiful.
Do one thing at a time.
One thing at a time and I seem to get as much done as when I'm trying to spread myself between seven things all at once. Heres how it works.
Two's company, threes a crowd
Except my front garden didn't get the memo
Its wild and totally overgrown at the moment with fishbone fern that people still pay good money for in the shops, with agapanthus and seaside daisy and some other long reedy things that provide a bit of a screen from the road. They crowd in on one another - the more the merrier apparently and are only kept from going completely mad by the garden bed edging laid in a curvy romantic fashion by me years ago now.
I still go back to these words
- - - small steps will often keep us going when we run out of steam with the grand gestures. Leeana Tankersley
Sometimes small steps are the only thing you can do when time and money, energy and ability and plain old priorities count the "grand gestures" out for the time being
- - - and sometimes taking one small step can seem like the grandest gesture of all.