Hi . . . My name is Leanne . . .

. . . and I used to blog.

A lot.

Then I caught a cold.

And I had to go to the doctor.

They took an x-ray.

Turns out, I had pneumonia.

Bad pneumonia. (As if there is a "good" pneumonia.)

I had to cancel a visitor who I had invited to my home months ago.

This made me sad. :(

Extremely sad.

But, still, I had that pneumonia.

So I had to take antibiotics, breathing treatments, cough medicine, and an inhaler .  . .

for a long time.

I was told to rest.

So, I did just that.

Then . . .

my back went out on me.

I went to the doctor. Again.

He said it was because of the type/strength/length of antibiotics I was on for the pneumonia.

My pneumonia went away.

But my back was messed up.

So, I stopped the antibiotics.

And a couple days later, my back felt better.

But then, like clock work, my allergies kicked in.

Tree pollen is bad.

For me.

I went to the doctor.

Yes . . . again.

He said I was a mess.

I told him I was a hot mess.

They think they are so clever . . . those doctors.

If you are going to call me a mess . . . you better get it right.

So, we talked a great deal about this and that.

He gave me eye drops and nose spray. I started drinking green tea with local honey. I closed the windows, and turned the air conditioner on.

And I felt better. A lot.

Then . . .

I turned 42.

Yikes.

42.

I refuse to be a mess at 42.

My dear friend Peggy reminded me that I am most at peace when I blog.

And . . . she is right.

I had forgotten all.about.my.blog.

So today . . . I introduce myself to you, my faithful friend and blog reader.

My name is Leanne. I don't have pneumonia any longer. My back is much better. My allergies are improving day by day. And I am 42.

Oh, and I am an artist. And a wife. And a mom. (In no particular order.)

But we'll talk more about that at another time.

I have much to share. Many stories to tell of the past few weeks. Lots of beautiful photos to show you. And I can't wait to do just that.

But for now . . . I'll leave you with a short story.

While watching the girls play outside yesterday afternoon, I noticed that one single rose had started to open from my rose bushes.

One little rose bud. All by itself.

I have three rose bushes in front of my house that truly are the envy of many who see them. I can't even take credit for them, as we hired a landscaper to bring them and put them in. They are probably the plant that brings me the most joy . . . and I'll remember to take a photo of them and share it with you later this summer.

I could have looked at that single rose for hours . . . and I think I did.

Lately, I've been feeling very much like this rose. Alone. Surrounded by a few thorns who, while trying to protect it, may prick it and cause it the most harm. This little rose . . . desperately trying to open up, to heal, but uncertain what will happen to it when it does. Bright and beautiful. But cautiously optimistic.

I love this rose.

And I can't wait to see what happens to it in the next few months.

I am starting a new journey this summer, too. Oh, yes . . .  number of adventures are ahead of me. Traveling. Making and teaching art. Standing up for myself when people say hurtful things to me. Yes, I am cautiously optimistic.

Because even when faced with pneumonia or thorns . . . this life is good.

Wishing you peace, my dear friends.

And a great deal of thanks for the well wishes this month.

Oh, and hugs. Great big hugs.

xo