My World-a blank slate

This last week most energy has been poured into clearing out my Grandmother’s apartment. I did the walk through and turned in the keys about midday today. Now what? It always feels a bit strange, a relief, yet a little sad, to come to a turning point such as this.

In response to Cee’s Share Your World Questions:

Would you prefer a reading nook or an art, craft, photography studio? Both, plus a cozy kitchen. I seem to spend most of my home reorganization energy trying to turn the whole place into a reading nook and place to work on sewing projects. Made perfect by the smell of fresh baked gingerbread.

Tell how you are feeling today in the form of a weather report. (For example, partly cloudy, sunny with a chance for showers, etc.) Overcast and rain, with occasional sun breaks.

If you could witness or physically attend any event past, present or future, what would it be? Pass on this one. Nothing springs to mind.

What inspired you or what did you appreciate this past week?  We all came together as a family to work on getting the apartment cleared out, I really appreciated that. It was great to relax knowing that the job would get done. In the end the place was immaculate and I didn’t do more than my share.

For inspiration: we got a new world atlas. Our most recent before Friday dates from the early 1990’s and didn’t have Serbia in it (my son’s new girlfriend is Serbian and we discovered that we didn’t quite know where that was). There is something that inspires me in seeing the world. It reminds me of the quote “the world is so full of a number of things, and we should all be as happy as kings” by Robert Louis Stevenson. He also wrote one of my all time favorite poems:

Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky’s blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping in to town.

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships,

To where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.

For me the atlas is a higher tree.

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