Beau February 9th, 2009
Sometimes I forget to share the quiet life we lead on this modest page. But then again, that may be a good thing because it means we are staying busy. The weekend turned wonderfully warm, as is today, and we accomplished some chores that were long awaiting our interest. Okay, maybe interest is too strong a word, but at least our care.
The ice has almost completely melted from the pond, giving way to waves and ripples in the breeze. I never tire of watching the water. It speaks to something within, I know not what. And reminds me of the sea that I spent much of my life upon in years past. I often wonder how long we’ll be here, and where we might go next. For myself I hope it is somewhere with a view, and perhaps to share the borders between land and water- maybe the sea again. For now I feel privileged to share nature’s beauty here in this place we call home.
As the ice melted this morning a curious bullseye remained floating in the middle of the pond. If I thought I could reach it I may have thrown a rock. ( Oh! I just saw a bee fly by the porch window… )
Wandering along the treeline the other day I found some long forgotten fence wire protruding from a large white oak tree. Pablo writes of such things often, finding them hidden throughout his woodlands. I was surprised not to notice this one before, and hopefully the tree will continue to grow despite the wounds of time. Maybe I’ll take a set of wire cutters to remove most of it, yet put a tag on the end. A woodcutter many years hence might be injured trying to cut the wood if encountering the metal wire with a chainsaw.
It makes me wonder who put the fencewire there so long ago, and how big the tree was at the time. I think of the years of my life in terms of the tree’s life, and I feel humbled. And it makes me think of what interesting times we live in. The strong warm breezes and sunshine of today will soon give way to thunderstorms and rain. But the sun will come out again.
The weather so often feels like a reflection of our lives, or vice versa, and the tumult we see across the globe. I know it’s only because now we can know so much, so quickly- instead of the small, insulated world outside our door, we see of so many other human events taking place. I think of the tragedy of the fires in Australia right now, wishing I could help, and of other events on a smaller scale.
I’ve traveled to many of these places and somehow even though I’ve spent months coursing across the vast Pacific and other oceans, I know that the moments unfolding far, far away are no different than the moments that unfold outside my window… At its essence, “there” is no different than “here.” But we humanize, or dehumanize the moment as the case may be. And I’m very thankful that I’m “here.”
And so we look to home and taking care of life around us. Often it is all we can, or should, do. Today, I’ll continue working on that long, unfolding list of projects and humble doings. And try to enjoy the peace of the world as it is now, here, in this place. I hear the song of a male cardinal near the treetop saying “I’m here! Lets make this tree our home! It’s almost time for spring!” And in the distance a redtail hawk soars and calls with the same yearning.
It will soon be cold again. But that’s okay, because winter is slowly giving way and I can already feel spring coming. It always comes.