Free Spirit


Free Spirit

I sold this one this week at the Druid City Art Festival

The Butterfly Effect of Love by Allison Adams


Science has shown the butterfly effect to engage
with the first movement of any form of matter- including people.
            ~from Andy Andrews book The Butterfly Effect
            a gift for the families who attended the wedding
A few years ago, a boy was too busy to make it out for a blind date with a girl.
After talking to her long distance by chat, text, phone, he decided he had to see her.  Convincing his parents who were on their way to the town where she lived to drop him off at her house for the weekend, he arrived at her doorstep, a sleeping bag and pillow in hand.
I don’t recall the exact way it was told at the Rehearsal Dinner but I think it went down like this.  As he stood there, a surprise to this girl and her college room mates, he waved to his parents over his shoulder with a huge grin, “This is Lauren. I am going to meet her parents this weekend, then another weekend you are going to get to know her and some day we are going to be married!”
They dated a couple of years and the celebration of their lives together was this weekend in Rosemary Beach, Florida.
My husband and two daughters (7 and 17) followed the flutter of love set forth in their college days and headed to Rosemary beach for their wedding.  Getting to know his family, in the brief moments we had around them, was something magical. To meet Will you can only grin from ear to ear. I don’t recall seeing him not smiling, and hugging people, and sticking his arm out to say “I’m Will!” to anyone and everyone he saw.
Toasts from their friends were all upbeat, magical, kind, genuinely all about the magic of their love.  The preacher who married them had been waiting for this day since Will was a child. His humor and pure joy for the occasion sent waves of chuckles throughout the weekend.
A toast was made by an elderly couple, briefly strangers, who met Will on an airplane on his way back from Argentina where he works as a hunting guide.
“I’m getting married,” he told them.
The gentleman whom I would guess is in his seventies gleamed as he and his wife stood to toast Will.  “This boy whom I met for only hours but felt like I knew him my whole life told me about Lauren on the ride home. It sounded like such a magical union. “
Will’s answer was, “You should come. I’ll send you a ticket!”
And that is how the little northern couple too were sucked up into the love current started back in college by a boy with a big heart and a girl who won it with her brains, beauty and love of hunting.
And everywhere we were, stories of Will and Lauren drifted across the wind. Her college friends from Rhodes, her roommates from Auburn, and some from Graduate School at Vanderbilt all meshed together in a tail wind of excitement spurred by the birth of a little girl whose daddy taught her how to hunt and fish and her mama who loved to shop with her and ski and do all the things boys like for girls to do with them while looking “fabulous”.
While her parents are no longer married, the love in her heart and the love they have for her brought them to a moment where they could stand together, for her, with her.  The toast Carson made was not about him…but how “your mother and I feel about the blessing that you are”.
Love is the ultimate goal in life. It is the most important of all of the messages that God left for us here on earth.
The couple didn’t say “we are in love”.
They ARE love. Their eyes showed it, their hugs showed it. There was no need for words.
In a time when the world seems tiny and meaningless for so many as it crumbles around us and hate rises up, we are reminded on a beach in a small town of Rosemary that there are great new beginnings being formed. There are messages floating along the sands and waves shouting out to perhaps a couple who was there who re-kindled a stale relationship, or a stranger who watched from beyond the dunes who dreamed of one day having such a blessed marriage.
Yes, there were butterfly effects going on all around us in Rosemary.
My seven year old watched it all.  Perhaps the effect she sees will be with her forever as she aspires for true love.  She was so excited to help hand out the rosemary that would shower the bride and groom  as they rolled off in their antique thunderbird convertible. Rosemary symbolizes love, remembrance, friendship and truth ~ something they will take into a new life, a new world, where laced into an even more powerful strand, I have no doubt that they will send tornadoes of hope across the world.

I can feel them now in Belize~ landing on a soft beach, speaking of love, toasting to their future, perhaps sparking a small wave, a breeze of what is to come across the planet where we are, just as we are soaking in and simply remembering the first wave.

Cheers and congratulations to you for touching my life and reminding me how precious my sweet husband is and how blessed I am with my children.
The greatest of these….is love.  Thanks for sharing yours!
Allison Adams

www.allisonpadams.com

MUNDANE MONDAY~ Mundane to Magical


SOMEHOW~ I missed the MUNDANE MONDAY writer’s prompt.
It read like this: 
Monday, Nov. 12 – From Mundane to Magical. Sometimes we can find inspiration in the most mundane moments, such as the wisdom I gleaned from cleaning out my closet. (You can read that post here: http://www.soulinstereo.com/2011/06/monday-motivation-in-closet.html) Take some time to think back on life lessons you’ve learned while doing seemingly dull or ordinary tasks or while out enjoying nature. 
So I looked around for something MUNDANE.   (as I had not fully read the description of our assignment).
At the time I was at the beach.
I thought about taking a walk by the ocean. I noticed yellow tape at the edge of our dunes, and bulldozers, about a dozen or so, parading back and forth to level the sand being pumped from the ocean to build back the hurricane ravaged beaches. So I sat and watched them for a few minutes, amazed at how fast and furious they worked all through the night. No mundane THERE!
I thought of sitting on the deck counting seagulls flying by.  Next door, the house that burned down over two years ago was being re-built and the crew was in full swing (set on fire by teens who thought they would distract the cops while they robbed the houses at the DEAD end road……they got stuck in the sand with all their loot and were caught, then went to jail for arson). NO mundane THERE!
This week on the holiday weekend the owners of what has been a vacant lot decided to put the roof on what has turned out to be a three story towering sunset blocker with walkover to the beach. I went through it after the workers left. There have to be ten bedrooms in there, all with small windows. I don’t understand that at all. But the porches will certainly give them plenty of view. Fortunately, the view to our house is something like looking down from a small plane. They will be able to see my bald spot if ever I get one. NO mundane THERE.
I thought, I’ll sweep the floor or do some laundry. That is my definition of mundane. But as I noticed all the sand, the dog bones, the shreds of paper that my daughter used for a collage, the rubber squares aligned from the kitchen to the den that she was also playing with, I thought, about all of the fun we had collected over the long weekend. Certainly sweeping wouldn’t be mundane! It would be like a scavenger hunt. 
So I perused the kitchen for something mundane. There were Christmas tree shaped dolly Madison snacks, chips of every size and shape, shells glued to a piece of paper from yesterday’s crafts. Nothing mundane about that! And then I spotted the one thing that made me think “ahhhhh”. 
There was a bowl of tomatoes, some green, some red, that I had bought on the way home from Dallas, Georgia the weekend before. I had displayed them on the counter at home in Birmingham and then carefully packed them to enjoy at the beach. As Friday, Saturday, Sunday and then Monday rolled by, they still sat there in the bowl. 
I thought about the joy of the tomato, not so mundane, but nonetheless intriguing. These I knew had come from the ground in a little town outside of Atlanta. They had been carefully planted by hand, tiny seeds, watered, nurtured. As the plants grew, someone reached into the green cover and popped them from their resting place on the vine and carefully arranged them in small bins to be sold to people like me. 
I stood in the kitchen looking at a bright red one, like the ones I used to plant in my garden in Montgomery. I remembered taking the time to tear open the seeds at the corner of the packet, seeds I had purchased along with those of cucumbers, watermelon, squash and zinnias (my favorite) one summer. My son who is now in college was only three. My hands were covered in black earth, his enveloped inside my gloves to keep from getting dirty. He helped me squish each one into the ground and water each hole.
When I moved to Birmingham I had two tomato plants by the pool. The vines grew up the fence and every once in a while I would see a glimpse of red through the leaves. That vine was right by the diving board, which would explain why I never got a chance to pick any of those. I saw them squished, tossed, splattered across the yard then eaten by the birds. Kids and gardens, nothing mundane THERE either.
So when I decided to slice those tomatoes that were so red and juicy, the seeds slid across the knife towards the plate. I slapped a wad of mayonnaise onto the top of it, scooped it up and ate it like I would a plum or an apple.
AAAAHHHHH GROSE, came from behind me as my daughter realized what I was eating.
Even eating tomatoes escapes the mundane at my house.
Allison Adams
 I Did NOT paint this but one day I will 🙂
I am guessing this is Paul Jackson’s but did not note for sure.
Allison is participating in a daily blog challenge. If you tweet, follow it or join in at #bloglikecrazy to read other participant’s entries. Also  she is taking part in ART EVERY DAY MONTH #AEDM2012. Check out those as well or visit http://www.creativeeveryday.comwww.creativeeveryday.com
to get involved.