Find the good

It’s another muggy, overcast day in H-town today. I was starting to grumble to myself as I headed to the store for more Mucinex because sickness won’t leave our house. This time it’s Payton who has been felled by the sore throat/congestion/fatigue bug that has some admirable staying power. I was grumbling at the grey day in which, as Jack Johnson would say, the horizon has been defeated. There’s absolutely no delineation between horizon & sky, just endless layers of grey. I was grumbling because I’m longing for a shot of sunshine that we winter Texans take for granted in the “winter months.” I was grumbling because it’s another day in which I can’t open the roof on my beloved little car.

Just as I was perilously close to becoming awash in grumbles, I remembered the 2 promises I recently made to myself, and suddenly I sat up a little straighter (albeit in my closed-roof car) and resolved to be less grumbly. The first promise–to be more warm, loving, and huggy–was short-lived. Those of you who know me well: go ahead and laugh. It’s ok. It was a ridiculous idea and I’m not a bit surprised that it never got off the ground. I’m much too snarky to re-invent myself as Little Miss Sunshine. Snarky and with a bit of a sharp edge is how I’m wired. I’d really like to be more gooshy and emotive but I’m also realistic. So instead of this you get this

and this

and this

and this

and always on the lookout for this guy:

Thank you, Roger Hargreaves.

It was a good experiment, to be sweeter and hug more, but I tend to identify less with Little Miss Sunshine and more with this:

Moving on.

My second promise to myself was to find the good. I want to look for and to find a little bit of beauty everywhere, no matter how grey the day. It’s a bit of a mind shift, I suppose, from crotchety and snarky, but I think I can do it. I’m pretty sure I have a better chance of finding the good than becoming a hugger.

Yesterday I noticed the blooming plum trees at Costco. Beautiful, spindley trees inside a big-box store, bursting with delicate purple flowers made me smile. I actually stopped, pulled my giant cart to the side, and looked closely at the burst of spring in front of me. Inside the store. When I got home, I noticed a few more bursts of spring, right in my own backyard.

The next round of coral roses is a-coming!

The dewy drops on the rose’s leaves caught my eye. Each little drop was shimmery and lovely.

The pink gerber daisies never fail to make me smile. They’re cheerful and jaunty at the same time.

Same for these guys. Can never remember what they’re called but I think of them as Blackeyed Susans. Whatever their name, the bright yellow blooms can stand in for the sun, just for today.

Then there’s the lantana. The teeny little blooms pack a powerful punch of color. The pink, yellow, and orange combo is my favorite, and I have it in not one but two pots in my backyard.

Those powerhouses of color will suffice for the lack of a pinkish-orangeish sunrise today.

And last but not least, the cute little ornamental kale that we bought for Piper, thinking she’d like to munch on its curly little leaves and explore its purple center. It’s not a showy bloomer like some of the other cast of characters that comprise my landscaping, but it has its own quiet charm. 

So there you have it: I found the good.

Oh, I’ll still be snarky today. You can count on that. And I will likely be a little stiff-limbed when it comes to hugging. But I’ll still be looking for the good and wishing everyone a good day.


11 Comments on “Find the good”

  1. David Benbow says:

    Thanks for sharing the colorful flowers. It’s nice to think that things are growing somewhere. It’s snowing on and off in Minnesota today.

    Instead of being more huggy, just try being more receptive to hugs from others. It’s a step in the right direction.

    And watch out for Mr. Tickle.

  2. Thanks for the walk through the beautiful nursery flowers, the promise of growth after desert experiences, finding the gems among the weeds. I’m not Little Miss Sunshine, either. Frankly, I cringe when someone wants to hug me these days.

    Also, watch out for Mr. Tinkles.

    XOX

  3. Eddie says:

    There is good all around you and it is especially easy to spot if there is also good within you. As for hugging? You are what you are. David may still hold out hope that you’ll become receptive to hugs but I won’t be the one to test it. I’m too afraid of your Little Miss Punchy side coming out.

  4. carole76051 says:

    That is one beautiful message, Nancy Po…🙂

  5. mmr says:

    I’ve heard a lot of women who don’t hug anymore after double mast. I’m afraid I might smack someone too hard without realizing it. 😉

  6. Mandi says:

    The snarky bunny is my favorite. May you find the good the good in every day and at least some humor in the bad.🙂

  7. Yvonne says:

    Nancy,
    I started a blog back in November when I was diagnosed, but I didn’t hit “publish” until this week. I think I was too afraid to say anything out loud about Susan G. Komen or anything about how I hate breast cancer. I’m glad to have found your site.
    Thank you
    Yvonne

  8. elizabeth connolly says:

    I must admit I did have a little smile and a teeny giggle when i read that you were going to be more huggy. But I just hug you anyway. Yes, there is good to be found but sometimes our mind hides it from us. Love Bettyanne

  9. I read this post earlier in the week and am reading it again now prior to adding it to my weekly round up and I just have to say it is even better reading it the second time round – esp as I look out my window at low gray skies – we are renowned for them here in the west of Ireland – and long for sunshine and blue skies. It’s synchronous that I read this again today as I read a wonderful reflection which I reposted on facebook this morning but would like to share here again

    “Here is the West particularly, but in Ireland generally we do not have a secure attachment to the sun as it’s presence is unpredictable (to say the least!). For this reason we may act and feel different on the days when the sun does decide to shine on us. Do we allow ourselves the lift of a sunny day and feel the drop as we ruturn to rainy weather after? Do we take on a panic and fear based stance, of having to be in the sun for as long as possible, grabbing every last ray just in case we don’t see it again for a long time? Or do we enjoy it, throw open our windows and doors and welcome it into our homes and hearts for as long as it lasts and know that we will feel the loss of it when it leaves but that we can trust that it will return again? Often when we do not receive things that are important to our wellbeing in a predictible and constant form, it can alter our relationship with that very thing, be it love, affection, friendship, health etc. Notice the way these things come into your life, there may be others that you add to your list too. Notice if when they arrive; you rush to welcome them, you reject them knowing that they are only fleeting, you grap and grasp as much as possible in fear that this will be your last opportunity to experience this feeling. Notice, but don’t judge. Notice they way it feels receiving these things from different people, do you always respond in the same way, or does the relationship with the person giving you these vital things alter your reaction and response?

  10. […] Nancy is determined to “find the good” this week, despite gray skies,  and she also shares some lovely pictures of spring coming into bloom in her world on her blog The Pink Underbelly. […]

    • Yvonne says:

      Marie, I grew up on Northern Ireland, and I can remember quite clearly Sunday afternoon drives during which my father would tell us to just be patient, the sun would be around the next bend. My grandmother’s mantra to always “follow the sun” led me to America, to the sunniest part of it, in fact. Since the cancer came, one of the constants for me has been the Arizona sun. There it is, shining defiantly even as I talk on the phone to my mother, another constant, while she’s looking out the window at Irish rain. Thank you for reposting the reflection. It’s lovely.


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