Last summer Kendall and I were sitting on our porch chatting. Finn was in bed and we were hanging out as the sun was setting and the air getting cool. An owl swooped down with its wings spread wide. It lives in a tree nearby and though we have heard it often, I have only seen it twice. Both times I was awestruck, my being instantly stilled as I took it in.
I was thinking of that owl as we said goodbye to our house. I thought of the owl again as I sat in the backyard of our new home and watched an eagle soar overhead. The move was unplanned on our part and this home we are in now is a temporary place. While this was not our family’s preference, having the opportunity to live where we are now is also full of blessings. We are closer to friends and closer to town. Walks, which our family loves to take, are almost daily happenings again. Hopping on the ferry is much easier. So, although we would not have chosen this for ourselves and are still adjusting to a new home and dealing with the challenges of transition for each of us, we are delighting in the many sweet things this place too holds.
Kendall was out of town and I awoke in the middle of the night on Friday. There was a wind storm and the electricity went out. There would be no nightlight tonight. Finn was crying. The wind was howling, pushing hard against our house. We could hear the wind throwing things around, toys left outside scrapping against the floor as the wind forced it from its resting place, branches snapping from a tree that moments before it knew to be its own. Inside we steadied ourselves. We lit a candle. I got the chocolate bread I had been saving. We ate it in bed, and then moved to the floor as my sleepy head woke up to the crumby realities of a three year old’s eating habits. We brought our attention to the light of the candle, and let ourselves sink into the safety of this home of ours and the walls sheltering us from the storm. And, eventually… we fell back to sleep.
When we woke up there was still no electricity. The day was wet and cold. For the next few days Finn would ask, why it was so quiet? Why the wind was not blowing?
It was miserable, but not technically raining at the moment our plans for the day were made. So, we met friends at the park. And, we played. We played in that cold, wet, and miserable weather. We played to keep warm. We played to have fun. We played baseball, we raced, we walked on stilts…. We played until our hands were red and stiff from the cold and our faces chilled. We played and then we said goodbye.
We kept a fire going at home to keep us warm. Just before evening, the electricity came back on. We had soup for dinner, heating our bodies from the inside out, feeling ourselves nourished. We let ourselves move through the rhythm of the rest of the day. I tucked Finn in and then we said goodnight, giving ourselves over to rest. We would pick up Kendall the next day. We would come back together as we all love to do.
Then on Sunday, before picking up Kendall, me and this little guy…
….had a date.
The snapping of branches underfoot…
The three of us went to Opening Night on Monday and I was happy to be in the company of these two baseball heads. We’ve been looking forward to this outing since Kendall got the tickets. While I enjoy baseball, it is nothing compared to the passion these two fellas have for the game. I think you can tell that they are quite taken with each other and with baseball.
Kendall and I have this groovy little kid who knows exactly what he wants. We walked into the stadium and he didn’t want to walk around and see the place. He wasn’t wide-eyed like we thought he would be. He wanted us to go to our seats and start watching the game. And, while all the pre-game show stuff was fine, Finn was ready. to. see. some. baseball. When the game started, he was into it. Getting down with the music and watching baseball is his thing. He is a little like someone else I know…
Then, about half way through the game Finn was ready for the professional baseball players to start playing baseball with him. He wanted to know when it was going to be his turn. Even after finding out that he would not take part in the home opener, he was eager to watch the entire game, wrapped in his bird blankie and wearing his baseball glove, eyes glued to the field.
Some days are a total race to the end, they’re a blur. It will be 10 o’clock in the morning and I can’t remember showering although I know I did. I’m exhausted, my body aches, and I feel my heart racing as I hustle to get dinner made, the floors swept and mopped, nutty bars finished to keep my family sustained. But, even in these days which are a total blur. These days which are not quite as peaceful as I would like, there is an e-mail from a friend saying, “I love you”, a literal two-minute conversation while cleaning up toys where I get to share a bit of my life with someone I care about. There is a hug from a dear friend as I run out the door. There is Finn washing dishes because he wants to help. He is a constant encouragement in doing things together, in being a part of something because we care about each other. Yes, I may have to go back and rewash every single one of them later, but there stands my son on the step stool, happily washing dishes. He is proud. He is also filling his hat with water. There is music. There is talk of music and which songs we like as I run around the kitchen and he washes dishes and fills and empties his hat with water. There is knitting. There is so much good. It may not be peaceful. The day may be full of unanswered questions. But, the day is also full of so much good.
18 carrot muffins
1 cashew brioche loaf
2 chocolate anise cakes
1 hazelnut cake
1 batch of trail mix
1 batch of honey roasted almonds
2 batches of silly guilly nutty bars
1 batch of Hazelnut Milk
2.5 jars of kimchi
Our house is just about completely packed up. We have have baked goods galor and Tiffin lunch pails to keep us going these next couple of weeks.
Last night the wind was blowing. She moved through the trees causing them to speak in turns. I went into our room and opened the window, as is my habit, and as I did she entered, filling the room with her presence. The symphony of trees was no longer muffled and their music rode upon the wind, clear and beautiful rendering the chorus of frogs inaudible for the first time in weeks.
I see signs of the wind’s presence in the forest today as I hike. A fresh confetti of green pine needles on the trail. Trees fallen and creaking, their sound an uneasy one. I feel the wind’s presence as I walk headlong into her, she passes along the trail like a wave and I, like magic, pass right through her. Everything is green, the color of a storm. I walk carefully so as not to slip in the mud, today is not a day I would laugh at falling. It is not a day that would cause anger to rise either, but would simply make me acutely aware of how tired I am. So, I walk steadily. And I listen to the wind.