May 27, 2012

• Sunday Morning

    Another Sunday morning where I find myself awakened early. Thankfully, it is not due to news of a family member's demise. No, it's due to a rambunctious dog, an aching right leg and the need for Louisiana style coffee.  Pandora is on shuffle.  A lovely clarinet concerto is playing. The trees outside my window are backlit by the rising sun, green glow all around.  I can't see the forest for the trees. I am surrounded by trees. Pine and poplar, birch and cedar.  I find trees a comfort. Sometimes when I arrive home after a particularly stressful day I will look up to the sky, tilting my head back as far as I can. I stand in place and sway with the trees. Sometimes there is a breeze, sometimes not. The swaying comforts me, calms me.  The feeling is the same as when I have swayed with my babies on my hip: I am whole. When I am with the trees I do not feel fragmented. I am back with my true self. I feel this way sometimes when I am with the ocean. My true self is calm and observant, watchful but not wary. No expectation in that moment, just the peace of being with the trees or the ocean. Sometimes my true self is present when I am with other people. As I age, I am finding that happening more and more. 

     Because we are coping with my Lyme I am making allowances for no garden this year. I will putter with containers and some flowers and herbs. The garlic was planted by Erik last fall. It will need to be checked for tasty scapes soon, but other than requiring some water, it is fairly carefree.  We will not be doing cucumbers this year. I do not see pickle making as a possibility this year.   I am disappointed that I will not be doing this thing that my family loves. Perhaps if August is better I will buy the ingredients at Farmer's Market and do a small batch. This year I am excusing myself from pickling. 

     In the meantime, I am living in the forest, drinking robust coffee and being grateful for the things I can still do. I look forward to the possibility of being healthy, no longer plagued by aches and pains, fatigue and fog. 

  Blessings abound

  • 8:22 am
  • 1 Comment