This weekend was not exactly as planned. Friday I experienced an unexpected hurt. Since then I have been enveloped in the love of my friends and have until today rarely had a moment alone. I am as ever grateful for the love and support of my friends. They are each beautiful and special to me. Today though I decided to do something I had wanted to do this weekend all along anyhow and visited the Blue Hills. I had not been there in some time and was anxious to see my favorite trees and walk along some of my favorite trails.

When I arrived I walked along the familiar entry point with purpose. It had changed little from my last visit and this was a tremendous comfort; however as I reached the top, the clearing to the trail was covered and overgrown. Slightly confused I traveled to the left. Had I forgotten the trail or had it changed in my absence? As I wandered about a determined spirit came over me. I would figure this out. As I worked to do so I felt sturdy and assured and unfortunately that feeling helped me to not focus on where I was stepping. I slid on a loose rock and hurt my ankle. As I stumbled over to a large rock to sit and assess my pain, I felt frustrated. I calculated my pain. I considered that I was not far from the start of the trail and thus my car. I could easily turn around. As I gingerly stood up I realized that the pain, while acute, was bearable. I could handle it. I could figure out the trail. I could do it...and as I stood and looked around I saw some other hikers and realized the trail was indeed near. I rotated my ankle a bit and I was off.

I took the trail to Houghton's Pond and while I gazed at the water and the sunlight dancing against it, I was reminded how resilient and strong my spirit can be. I was also reminded once again how healing nature can be. It is my soul. It is my grace. Four miles to remember who I am, four miles to remember that the pain in my heart, like my ankle, while acute- is bearable (and temporary). Always remember my friends that we are all resilient. Be brave. And smile. Always remember to smile.

One of my old friends. The way the sun hit it today was extraordinary.

Thank goodness for waterproof shoes! It was too tempting to not wander into the water and snap this and I would have done it regardless. So yes, thank goodness for waterproof shoes.

How could this view not help but heal one? I love the way the clouds swirl in the background.

Today it will be nine years since my Grandma Jeanne passed away. That it has been nine years is hard to believe...sometimes it feels so close and my heart aches with every beat. Sometimes when I swim in the ocean and float on my back I can feel her in the sun's warm embrace and it is like I am in her arms again. I have been so blessed in my own life and her love will always be one of my greatest blessings.

 Another blessing I have cherished is the memory of being able to help a 90 year old woman find her own history. Her niece came to me over two years ago asking for my help in finding information for her father and aunt. They and their three other siblings had been surrendered by their mother in the 1920s. They had all been sent to different places and with the exception of two of them had never seen one another again. The aunt and father had found one another as adults when someone said to the auntie that they had seen a man working in the fields that looked so similar to her. She rushed there with her husband and her brother was found. They had been separated since childhood. Both had been institutionalized. Both had suffered neglect. Both were so grateful to have found each other. From that moment forward they were a part of one another's lives and kept their hopes alive that one day they could find their other siblings. While they waited and hoped they raised their children together and tried to provide the love and care that they had not received.

They came to my agency multiple times over the next few decades looking for information and each time were denied or told the info was lost. By the time they came to me the father had died and his daughter had taken on the search in his honor and for her elderly auntie. This woman is one of the most persistent and courageous women I have ever met. I knew I would do everything I could to help her.  Her auntie just wanted to know where she came from. It was a simple request and something many take for granted. I myself know what is like to not know your own history. Over the next two years I spent any spare moment I had piecing information together and taking trips to our archives. My hands would gingerly touch each ageing file and I would hope against hope that the next one would be it. Each time I walked out with blackened by dust fingers and a heavy heart. And then one day with our intern in tow we found it. It was pure luck. We were looking for another file and I looked at one of the boxes. There was a sequence of numbers on it that looked familiar. I grabbed auntie’s paperwork. I carried it with me to the archive always just in case. There had been one piece of paper that randomly had numbers on it. Breathlessly I realized they were similar to the ones of the box. One quick conversation with the archivist and I had the box and auntie’s history was found.

She and her niece (and some more family) came the next day to the office and we went over the file together. The history was ugly….she had forgotten so much and here it was. Being institutionalized, abuse, neglect, a diagnosis of being feeble minded. And auntie took it all with aplomb. She knew who she was. She knew what she had achieved. And knowing her history didn’t change who she was. She handled everything with humor and grace. Her family looked at her with such love that was so easy to understand. She hugged me tightly and I was so grateful to be a social worker, so grateful I am nosy and persistent (two traits from both my mother and grandmother) and so grateful to have met this woman. She changed my life in the course of one afternoon. Her dignity, her ability to accept the past and to create love, these things all moved me immensely.

Today the niece called me with an update as to how they are doing. They have found more and more family members including one of the auntie’s sister’s grandsons. Auntie had cried. She saw her brother in his eyes. The niece wanted me to know that auntie has been collecting photos of all of her new to her family and in the middle of all of them is a snapshot of myself, our intern, and auntie. They all consider me family. I can think of no better than today for me to receive that call. As she told me about the picture I looked at the same picture- it is on my own desk next to the one of my Grandma (that also looks over Ben Affleck. We both had crushes on him so I gave her some eye candy. She was always a flirt.) Auntie and Grandma both looked at me and my heart felt so full. Tears came to the corners of my eyes. Where earlier I had struggled to keep in tears of longing and sadness, I now let tears of joy flow.

People will see the light in you and either be attracted to it or try to diminish it. Don't let ugly forces ruin beautiful things- such as yourself.

-love from The Story Girl

I took a trip to the beach, which in itself should have been enough beauty. The waves were huge and sweeping. Laughter rang out everywhere. It was a beautiful day. Yet the day was not done with me and on the way home I took a wrong turn. As my GPS struggled to recalculate, I noticed a sign for an observation farm. I passed it and then turned around to visit. My GPS was quite angry, but I was rewarded for indulging my instinct.

 Immediately I was greeted by these white blossoms. I knew it was worth going further if this was only the start. They welcomed me warmly.

I hopped carefully along wooden planks that halfheartedly were meant to keep one from walking in mud. As I came to the end of the last plank, this view came into sight. It was after seven. That the sun was still this bright seemed amazing. The sounds of happy frogs abounded.

 Right past the sun soaked field were these beautiful plants. I loved the darkness against the fresh green.

And right past that was a small bridge over a small pond...little bugs bit all about my ankles. My feet were muddy. And I was perfectly happy.

The sun seeped through any crevice it could find and fought against setting. The plants seemed to be begging it not to leave them.
I found it hard to want to leave myself; however I began to hear the sounds of teens and realized this was a hot spot for local youth on the weekend. Thus it was time to go.




When I was young and my daddy would take a wrong turn it meant an adventure. Sometimes I wonder if he purposefully took wrong turns. He was never worried about it. He never asked for directions (which, lol, I understand a bit better now), but would logic out the next turn. If there was a garage sale on the way then more the better. Being lost isn't always such a bad thing is what he taught me. This of course can be taken literally or figuratively...this wrong turn turned to be the right turn for me just as many of the wrong turns I have taken in my life have taught me wonderful lesson. As Tolkien said, "Not all those who wander are lost".

Yesterday, as today is, was rainy. My galoshes, though adorable with little owls all about them, had two very deep gashes in them making them more decorative than protective. As I approached my office though my mood was still pleasant despite my wet feet. I was joined by the new Camera Obscura album. It was a wonderful companion and kept me in good spirits. Walking up to my office there is a little pocket park. The owners of our building put it there. They are savvy owners and are working to create the new hot spot in Jamaica Plain. The pocket park has been a nice respite for myself and my co-workers. On a sunny day it is a nice space to sit and feel the warmth of the sun, while being close enough to the office to run back quickly if needed. In the center of the pocket park is a little mini garden. At the start of the Spring it was filled with beautiful bright blossoms that were so beautiful they sometimes hardly seemed real. They have since come and gone. Since their passing the pocket park has lost a bit of its charm though the owners have kept it clean and in tip top form. As savvy as the owners of the building are though, they are not as savvy as Mother Nature. When the little garden was planted many of the seeds must have been scattered by the wind. Our office is next to where the train runs. The lot of land next to us is a bit bleak with untamed grass and a leftover feeling; however our little lost seeds found homes amongst the wild grass and now blossom brightly and merrily. It is our not so secret garden.

One red flower was right at my reach as I walked past. Though it was rather greedy of me to take it, I reached down and plucked it with nary a thought. As I sat at my desk, my work instincts kicked in. I began checking my messages and reading emails. I happened to look over and caught sight of a picture of my Grandma Jeanne. I looked at the flower pinned to her suit and knew she and my red blossom were made for one another- perfectly suited. I took her picture down and placed the flower next to her. They kept each other company just as her beautiful memory has often kept me company...at least in my imagination they did. My co-worker Joel came to my desk a short while later. His own Grandmother had passed very recently. I hesitated to mention the lingering sadness I still feel when I remember my Grandmother is no longer on this earth. Yet we shared a few moments of talking about the beauty of memories even in spite of the ache that they can bring....When I came to my desk this morning, the flower had faded.  But the memory of it bright against the memory of my bright Grandmother, well that warm feeling has yet to fade. To the beauty of cherished memories. 

"Nothing is ever really lost to us as long as we remember it."  

-L.M Montgomery (from The Story Girl) 

I have been gone for a while. I know it. I have an excuse I suppose. The lid of my laptop quite literally fell off making it difficult to use; however while this is an adequate logistical excuse, I suppose it doesn't seem good enough. I gave myself a challenge and I rather gave up on it when there became a small challenge to working on it. And I can feel the effects of not writing. This is the amazing truth I have stumbled on- actually writing this blog inspired me to look even harder for the beauty in everything. Lately, I have felt not wholly felt myself...there have been some rather difficult things happening in my work life i.e. the lives of the children I work with. I have been experiencing some mild traumas as a result and have experienced some of the uglier sides of life. I seem to keep running into angry and unhelpful people in daily life...ugh. This is why I don't feel like myself. I feel as if I have been counting the ugly things I have seen and collecting those stories- stories based in anger, fear, sadness- rather than the joyous stories of nature and humanity. So time to refocus. I have the lid of my laptop propped up by Bark Ruffalo aka the best stuffed dog in the world because it was given to me by one of the best friends in the world.

And here is my first photo of my re-found blog. I was on a walk around the Reservoir with my friend Kate Monster. Walking with Kate Monster is always a delight. Why? Because when it breaks down to it we are both still awkward youth trying to figure out how to live every single passion we have. We both often feel wildly misunderstood and we both are working to understand ourselves. There are not many people in the world that you can allow yourself to feel these things with and to be able to comfortably express how goofy you still feel. As we walked we came upon these ducklings. They were no longer the small and downy baby ducklings of the first of spring. They were awkward in every sense. Their mothers still hovered and I swear one rolled its eyes at me as if 'I need space' was exactly what it was thinking. Teenage ducks looking for space...the irony of the timing was not lost on me. I laughed as soon as one of the mama ducks give me the stink eye. The rest of our walk was of course charming as was every moment beforehand. There is nothing as beautiful as feeling understood. Especially when you often feel as goofy as these goofy growing geese. Friendship, genuine friendship, is one of the most beautiful things in life, but friendship shared in nature seems even more blessed.

Saturday was simply gorgeous. Sunshine knocked at the door and all of Boston seemed to embrace it with open hearts. And what of me? I got to spend the day and evening with a dear friend. We rambled around the Reservoir and through neighborhoods in Brookline for a large portion of our visit. One home within the neighborhoods was especially special- the yard was cluttered with 'treasures' and little garden projects that just made the house look comfy and lived in. The best part of the rambling and friendly looking home though was an antique bike that invited guests to 'Take a Book or Leave a Book'. I greedily took two books; however I am greatly looking forward to carefully selecting two books to replace the ones I was gifted. Obviously I was excited about my literary finds and the sunshine, but obviously the greatest joy was walking with someone that is a genuine friend.

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend."
-Albert Camus