{part one to discovery}

I promised you all last week that my intentions with this new blog was to share with you the stories of my heart, the stories that make each one of us unique and different from the next. Every week, until I am finished, I will share with you an event from my past leading up to my new found future. Into the dark and somewhat foreboding abiss of space, I find comfort in releasing my innermost musings. I know the stars will protect them as they already have so perfectly as I've ventured through the Milky Way.

And so..... it begins.......

Some times it is your own life that has you gasping with astonishment, at a loss for words, swinging by the coattails and not completely understanding how it all started or what it would be that would end it.



I am writing this now, not so much as a biography of sorts or even a goodbye, for I hate goodbyes, but because I am compelled to release if you will the stories bound up in my heart.


Every life carries with it secret hopes, longings, loves and disappointments, triumphant appeals, adventures, betrayals and loneliness of the deepest kind. I have experienced them all and endured them fully. I do not consider myself to be a seer of visions or even a great story teller but what I hope to share with you is the very tender and inner workings of the blossoming of a women’s heart.

I do not expect this to be any kind of great masterpiece or working genius, but rather a retelling of my life and its peculiar and exquisite happenings. It most likely will end up in a pile of papers, alone and forgotten in a dark corner, never to be discovered and never to be read. In any case, it does not really matter. Yet, I do know this, it is my story and it is burning to be told. Then and only then, will my spirit be comforted in this.

~Part I: Of Sea and Mist

She was born on a Sunday in the midst of sea and mist, to a young couple that still loved each other. The sun, although hidden behind a blanket of fog did not dampen the spirits of the family who welcomed their first grandchild, a daughter. She was to be given the name that was sung to her from the moment her dear mother realized of her conception. A family name, derived from the industrious mountain ranges, rivers and valleys of old Germany. She enveloped the hope and future of a lifetime of wishes and dreams. Her father, whose dark curls lay frosted on his brow, held her close to his heart, wrapping her tenderly alongside his young wife. They smiled into the face of the little baby’s tender features and placed her carefully in her woven bassinet surrounded by all of those who loved her.


It was late spring and April’s rains brought a cheer of sunny flowers and warmer nights to the small city of Duluth, Minnesota. Her young mother, fair and delicate with rosy cheeks rocked her softly in safe, assured arms. She sang to her sweet nothings, songs that the little girl’s heart still remembers in the quiet recesses between waking and sleep.


As the years whittled by slowly the young child became a little girl and delighted in every aspect of nature and life that surrounded her. She had her mother’s rosy cheeks, serene grey-green eyes and a cascade of thick strawberry blonde curls that shocked strangers. Wherever she went there seemed to be a smile and song in her heart. She hummed to herself as she played alongside the pea shrubs and spring tulips and irises, yellow and purple, smelling of liquorice. She had an active and wild imagination, delighting in adventures up pine trees, and down East Winona Street to find glittering treasures and peering into neighboring windows to catch a glimpse of the worlds and lives of others.


From an early age she was completely enamored by the stories and lives of others. What grand adventures had they lived, what sorrows had they endured and what were their greatest hopes and wishes. She remembers one day in particular, stealing into the house across the street. A house she quite adored surrounded by flowering tulips and topiaries. It was not long before she found herself surrounded by a number of fine treasures. Oriental rugs, a great big Grand Father Clock, and gold rimmed china, shining through the curios doors.


An old lady by the name of Annabel sat knitting away at her granny square throw only to look up from her work and discover the sweet round face of a curious little girl smiling back at her. This encounter was the beginning of many more afternoons that the young girl would spend listening to Annabel’s stories of life on the Dakota prairies and her grandparent’s adventurous sail from Sweden to the New World. Sometimes they would share in a small cookie and cup of tea -other times they would just sit and listen to each other and smile. But always the little girl would part by kissing the soft pink cheek of the kind lady goodbye and hurriedly scramble off to more daring adventures.


Such other adventures of this young girl’s heart if known to her parents would surely have caused them fright. One such adventure remains in her memory as the sweetest and earliest of her recollections. It was a magical early spring morning. The sun was bright and playful and she awoke to it flooding her bed and mind with wonderment. She knew she wanted to be a part of it. No, she had to be a part of it! So she crept quietly out of her bedroom that she shared with her little tiny sister and unlocked the front doors of the house.


She crept outside in her bare little feet clad only in a simple white night gown with yellow ribbon. It was misty yet along the ground and the horizon was blushing red and purple embers. The ground that had but the day before been tilled for fresh seeds, sat cool and dark against the tender shoots of grass. Robins tripped and bobbed along gaily finding tiny morsels as they spied the ground. Oh and her heart was so alive and so full! She was free out in the air in that new sun and she wanted to dance so she did. She held her arms out to her sides and twirled and twirled, throwing her head back watching the pea shrub form a silhouette around her as she twirled.


The violets smiled near her feet and the hard acorns imbedded deep within the mossy grass were hard and crackled as she stepped lively upon them. But suddenly, she felt a cold fear grip her. Like someone was watching her from the other side of the fence by the road. She fell hard to the ground, dizzy in delight. She picked herself up and walked softly to the door to unlatch the handle. The warm breath of that sleeping house melted her cool toes and made her pink cheeks glow. She walked silently into her room to find rest underneath the warm comforter of her bed and closed her eyes tightly, smiling. It was like a dream. A perfect untouched dream. It was a secret. A secret she would never share but hold within her heart forever as a grand and daring adventure. ~