This morning, sipping hot coffee on the couch, I announced to Barry, “The Winter King kissed us with snow again last night.”
He eyed me above his coffee mug, raising his eyebrows only slightly.
“What–are you taking some online poetry class now?” he asked.
“Hmmmphhh!” I replied. “Nah, I wrote a blog about the Winter King last week, and am just continuing the theme. I didn’t tell you about it because I didn’t think you would be interested in poetry and metaphor and analogy and such.”
“Thank you,” said he, and I did not dump his coffee on his lap inadvertently because, well, you just know what interests a person after forty-some years of sipping coffee on the couch. And poetic ramblings are not his thing, even though his wife swoons–yes, swoons–to dream deep into fairytales where intangible things become reality, thank you, Stacy, very much for those magic words.
Many of my dearest friends love art. They love creating this and that, dreaming the intangible into form. Their heart guides their hands and they draw, paint, sculpt, collage, Zentangle, glue, create. They take what’s burning or brewing inside and express what mayhap feels inexpressible. And–oh–I imagine the delight of this. The swooning.
Which is what I feel when words trip up out of the unconscious. Doesn’t matter if they’re singing words or painful words. They burst upward in unimaginable colors and something deep inside goes ahhhhh. Later I might go back and wonder whether anyone else felt even a hairsbreadth of the joy that blossomed out of the paragraphs, but in the act it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Because the heart is thrilled in just the knowing/being of This.
Taking what’s impossible and finding beauty in it. Like the photo of my Valentine’s Day bouquet surrounded by the Winter King’s snow. The bouquet is twelve days old, all the old blossoms fallen away, arranged yesterday in a new vase to prolong its sweet passing. The flowers are 99 years old in flower-years and drooping with hairy stamens and fallen petals, even though they’re trying to stand up straight like teenagers, but I can still see the beauty, can’t you? Barry brought home the bouquet almost two weeks ago, so you can see by his actions that poetry does sing in his soul, even though he would never call it that in 100 human years.
The Inuit, apparently, have fifty words for snow. Can you imagine? Can you imagine seeing in that detail? Having senses so awake that you truly see fifty shades and textures and colors and appearances for snow?
I have heard it said thus–if we’re bored, we’re not really looking. Not truly seeing at such a fine level of perception where the ordinary reveals itself as absolute magic. I don’t know about you–but I want to keep learning to see this way. To remember this when I feel bored or restless. Because then the world presents itself as dazzling connected energy, not just inert dead matter separate from ourselves. It’s simply swoon-worthy.
Wishing you magic today and always. May you swoon sometimes. Over crocuses or snow or homemade cards. We all deserve some swooning, don’t we? ❤
Your encounter with Barry made me laugh. Thanks to both of you for a morning chuckle. Glad the Winter King visited you and not me – I’m tired of his act – but I admire the beauty he leaves.
I am glad our encounter made you grin, Frank. We actually have many funny conversations during our morning coffee. As for snow…you are lucky…the Winter King sometimes visits us into Spring, outstaying his welcome!
It wonderful to see the magic and beauty in life. 💗
LaDonna, it sounds like you are a seer of this, too. ❤
I like magic found in everyday life. Seems like it makes more sense than all that conjured up stuff on stage. Enjoy your day, swoon at will.
Ally–oh I see you finding magic every time you sit down and write a blog. And you can get so many readers feeling the stardust every time you notice and ponder. Swooning or not, lol.
I am very happy the Winter King is keeping you company and leaving me alone. We are enjoying weather that again feels like spring is coming, and I am loving it, embracing it, languishing in it. As to the expression of self, the creative endeavors, they are ever so satisfying and keep my soul singing. perhaps we could have a duet?
Oh aren’t you the lucky duck, Carol? Spring coming by to keep you company so early! As I just mentioned to Frank, we keep getting visits from winter sometimes into May. You are also lucky to have such a creative soul making all your beautiful creations. You’re rich in creativity it looks like to me.
Amen! And Kathy, these photos are swoon-worthy, especially the last one with the “lace” decorating these trees! Perhaps we don’t all get to see the world as a true creative does, but we all do need to open our eyes and appreciate the beauty surrounding us.
I am glad you enjoyed the winter photos, Debbie. Thank you! Like you, I just want to keep these eyes open and keep appreciating beauty–sometimes in the least likely places.
This is so fun, eloquent, and magical all at once. I swoon at words that trip out of the unconscious .. literally taking my breath away; others’ words can do this as well (like your words). Certain moments caught in Nature are swoon-worthy, and sometimes a piece of music strikes so deeply within that tears flow. Speaking of music, that Barry guy is also a musician as well as a bearer of flowers to his lady fair. But not in that100 human years would he say that poetry sings in his soul. Funny. Keep being magical, Dear Kathy, and sharing those swoon-worthy words!!
Dear Susan, you know your words so often cause swooning on this end, whether in person, email, commenting, FB or Messenger. (But best of all in person which might happen one of these days!) A very good point–Barry is an artist in many different ways. As a musician, layout guy, photographer, and especially creative with wood and metal working. He is even an inventor. However, poetry and metaphor–not quite soooo much. xoxo
swooning at your words. “The flowers are 99 years old in flower-years and drooping with hairy stamens and fallen petals, even though they’re trying to stand up straight like teenagers, but I can still see the beauty, can’t you?” And there is so much life in your posts, Kathy – the real, felt thingy very nourishing read, it is. I feel sad for Barry who has not learned to be swooned by poetry. It one of the few things that NEVER fails in bringing me to float
Yes, LIFE coming through in between and around and through our words! Yes, that’s what I love, how LIFE itself can peek through every nook and cranny if we but notice. How wonderful that you swoon to poetry, dear Leelah. Barry swoons (although, hmmm, he wouldn’t use that word) to creating and inventing and playing with wood and metal. He’s always designing new tools & techniques and I see his soul laughing with each new design.
I like the thought of 50 words for snow. I increasingly look at light casting patterns and colors on my white world. Extraordinary! I gasp in pleasure at such magic. Barry has a romantic heart, so I think there is some poetry there, too. I love the red and pink of the bouquet heating up winter’s cold.
Barb, wouldn’t it be nice to know some of those words for snow? The last couple of days there has been this sheen or crust or pattern atop the snow that’s so unusual. It’s lovely–and I know you would notice and love it, too. And perhaps recall when you’ve seen similar snow. Thank you for liking the winter-bouquet. I re-planted the dying flowers in the snow today. Perhaps the deer will enjoy them. 🙂
I love your flowers in the snow, and that you were kissed by more snow last night. It’s a good way to get through a long winter. I’m looking at palm trees today, back to the lake house tomorrow and then soon on north to home and my two that are waiting patiently. Or not patiently, hard to tell from here.
Dawn, I really think it’s great that you were able to go visit the lake house and get away from home. That sounds SO appealing right now! Bet your two are waiting to see you, especially that barking one. 🙂
You’re welcome. *wink*
I love your poetic way of expressing and revealing the magic in the ordinary. XOXO
Stacy, your comment came around at just the right moment! Thank you so much for all your kindness…you are actually listed as my #1 commenter these days! ❤
Oh, I am honored to be so. XOXO
I love your post today. It resonated with me. Thanks!
I am glad you liked this. Wondering if you and Jimmy ever have conversations like this?!
I’m swooning over your post. I swoon over magical mystical marvelous things, like a song at just the right pitch, like a smile from my guy, like a hug from a grandkid, like the wink from a bird and the squirrel’s swoosh from her tail. I’m sorrowful for those who say they’re “bored.” How can anyone be bored when even the dust in the winter sunlight glimmers and dances and makes me swoon? Ah, what a wonderful word – swoon. It makes me . . . swoooooooon.
Yep, girlfriend, I do equate “swoon” with you. Your words swoon as they come out of your typing fingers and there’s often a mystery involved. I keep thinking about your comment about winter dust glimmers and watching them dance in the air ever since. Love this!
I’d rather think of dust glimmering than the other rather negative connotation that would mean my house was dirty! 😝
I am a swooner for all things artsy while Will is a swooner for video games and all things zombies. Patiently, we listen to each other and ask questions but for the most part he is happy swooning his way, and I, mine. There are a few things we swoon over over together (after 20 years, I’d hope so) 🙂
Isn’t it interesting how we can be so different from our partners, and yet we still find ways to connect? It sounds like you and Will have figured out the questions and the individuality. And perhaps so have Barry and I. Here’s to 20 or 40 more years!
Ah, that Morozko, forever busy with his magic… I’m still not sure what to make of him… When I was reading Kristin Lavransdatter years ago I was always turning to my dictionary to look up yet another word for snow. I bet the Scandinavians have almost as many words for it as the Inuits. Maybe you will find some snowdrops in your snowy woods over there? 💕
Barbara, I would have had to look up Morozko’s name. Have downloaded a sample of the Kristin book and am reading that now. Not sure if I’ll buy the book or not, but really respect your recommendations. As for snowdrops…we can only hope!
Yes, joy is often hiding in plain site but we are too busy to notice.
Hi Sarah! May we all have moments where we can pause to see that hidden joy. xoxo
Great post, Kathy. I especially got a kick out of your conversation with Barry. I know he’s a writer and was surprised he wasn’t into poetry. Although, not all writers are into poetry. I’m into profound words, but sometimes poetry is too obscure for me. My husband is a Mr. Fix-it. If it doesn’t have an engine or doesn’t need to be put together, he has no interest. Creativity is my thing, and unfortunately, it’s not very practical when things are broken.
Glad you enjoyed, Lori. Barry is a totally different kind of writer than me. He’s more technical, although he can be artistic and fun in his columns, too. He is also a Mr. Fix-it like yours! He’s been working on his tractor engine and Studebaker insides for the last few weeks. Last weekend I had to even help fix the tractor plugs when it stalled in the driveway. Now that was fun! (Ummm, not really, but I now have brownie points.)
I love how you see the world, Kathy. It is so refreshing. And about this thing when words just well up from inside us, I imagine this like the sun inside me and it bursts out. I guess it is obvious that I am from the islands, thinking this way.
Thank you, dears! I love what you described about the sun bursting out within you. That is so very cool! *big morning smile to you, whatever time it is across the globe and in the islands*
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We all swoon over different things but the important thing is that we do 🙂
Oh now that is vital, Andrea! THAT we swoon…not necessarily WHY we swoon. Perfect!
Your post made me smile, I have a little swoon over the snow moon we have just had, and the new bench hubby has just made for the cats to sit on.
What a precious husband you have there, Tilly, to make you a new bench for you and the cats. I am smiling at this image. ❤
Thank you for the beautiful post Kathy.
I recently read your post on “1000 followers” and I thought, I should make friendship with this lady. Because I love humour in her words. 😁