Out my window the last beams of the sun are shining down on the slowly greening alfalfa fields and brown grasses, bathing them in a warm glow. It's the kind of glow that bespeaks of safety, of peace, of stillness, and a deep warmth.
But it's anything but warm. That is the harsh deception of such golden glowing rays. To look out the window one might think to run outside and greet the sun.
I have heard this call many times these past weeks, and I have ran to greet the sun only to be blown back inside by the frigid air, jaded by the deception of spring.
The sky is blue, laced with puffy clouds, that change shape, color, and mood just as quickly as the weather does. One minute there's freezing wind, shadowlands, and cold. The next moment there is light, warmth, sun, and calm.
Then just as you settle into the warmth, the sun is covered in clouds, and a blustering wind blasts you from the north, trying to shoo you back inside.
Mother nature has a hard time making up is mind as I do.
So I guess I shouldn't judge it so harshly.
Here, the birth pangs of a new season are always laden with such winds, and turbulent extremes in hot and cold, wet, and dry. It's as if winter is mixing with spring, battling it out.
Who the victor will be?
Frost, or sun?
The delicate bud, or the blast of the cold wind?
Sometimes the cold wind wins out, and takes the swelling buds away with it as soon as they open.
Sometimes, the frost comes and freezes the new bulbs before they've had a chance to even open.
But other times, the good times, the cold gently let's go, and spring is given a fare chance to thrive.
I hope that will be the story of this new season.
Seasons in nature, in life, in our own separate lives and our own unique stories.
It seems everywhere you look there's a new discovery made, a new invention created.
Everywhere you look is a story. An opportunity to give meaning, to create a song, a subtle nudge of inspiration.
All we need to is be open to those gentile nudges.
A funny thing happened today. I was just settling into the idea of dropping by and writing a blog post when my plans were drawn off course by my mom's strong desire for a chocolate cake.
This would be the 3rd chocolate cake I've made in two weeks. What were we celebrating?
A day. Being a live. Enjoying good food. Protesting the fact that we've given up buying most junk food, and are coming up with creative ways making our own new, more tastier junk food.
Yeah. Lots of butter. Lots of chocolate. But good for the soul. This recipe is one that turns out every time.
Super good.
Super moist.
Not too sweet.
It's a cake that tastes like a brownie.
And it's something we can't seem to get enough off.
Who would have thought that making a chocolate cake would be good for the muse, but it was. While I was mixing ingredients, my sister sat on the couch strumming her bass ukulele that sounds more like a guitar.
In between cracking eggs, and measuring flour, and the strumming of the uklelee, my sister and I started singing random words. It started out really silly. We started singing ABC song to the tune of her strumming. We added trills, and harmony, in-between beats, and random fun sounds. I picked up a empty paper towel roll and sang into it. My mom started dancing and humming. We had a regular band going. Then the song arched and changed into something really cool. We were singing a chorus, and it sounded good, and right, with harmony, and words that came freely. We were in the zone.
That was a nice feeling. It was a good song, a song we entitled. You were born to be Free. But now its title has changed to Waking up the dead, or Resurrection.
We didn't have the song all down. But we knew what we wanted to say. After I had the cake in the oven, my sister and went and brainstormed, writing random words, and thoughts down as they came.
That was then, about two weeks ago, and the song has morphed into a song about the resurrection. A song of second chances, a parallel between Lazarus, Christ , and how the Lord calls us forth from our own self-made tombs to new life. I'm really excited about the song. Someday, I hope to share it with you.
So what is the point of this blog post?
Never underestimate the power of a little music, silliness, and chocolate cake.
It could end up being a very serious, fulfilling business.
Who would have thought that making chocolate cake could put you in the muse.
That out of the recesses of a recipe, and fun could come a song that at least I think is a song that I feel very strongly about. A song with a message that needs to be sung.
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