banjos and bird nests

It is Sunday morning and the beginning of spring has turned the ends of bare branches into baby sized buds. I feel most alive when the white snow sails away with the wind, revealing the hidden earth where flowers and grasses are meant to grow. It is my time for planning the garden which will be bountiful and present during summer, the other season that makes the world feel bright and far from grim.

I have been hammering fingers and palms against my banjo while seated on couches, bar seats and carpeted flooring. I miss the feeling of a banjo skin warmed by the sun. I long to hear banjo strings echo beside tall trees and the squirrels dropping pine cones. I dream of the grass springing towards my feet as I carry my banjo to play in the garden. I can see it now, the silver stringed lifeboats making songs while I brush them, a soft breeze pulling at my hair, the crow in the distance and my dogs lying flat in the shade.

When I look to my shadow in the sunshine as I play, it looks as if my belly is stuck out and round. I imagine there is a baby growing but then I chuckle to myself – knowing I am young and for now I am here to give birth only to these songs on my banjo. I know one day, if life allows it, there will be little babes around for me to share these strings with. Until then, until tiny hands reaching out for me, until a need for tissues and messes that are not my own, I will play my banjo and I will count the reasons why this moon-shaped instrument made every season of my life feel mighty, like a daisy rising from the warm earth.
~

Banjos like bird nests belong in the sun and I will sing with the chickadees whenever spring comes.

The Outfit

Hat & Blouse & Skirt – Value Village

Lace up Heels – Blowfish Shoes

Boots – DNA footwear

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