over and Over again

"In my own worst seasons I've come back from the colorless world of despair by forcing myself to look hard, for a long time, at a single glorious thing: a flame of red geranium outside my bedroom window. And then another: my daughter in a yellow dress. And another: the perfect outline of a full, dark sphere behind the crescent moon. Until I learned to be in love with my life again. Like a stroke victim retraining new parts of the brain to grasp lost skills, I have taught myself joy, over and over again." 

— Barbara Kingsolver (High Tide in Tucson)

The rain is letting up as I bundle him up and take him outside for a bit. He wants to walk through what is left of the vegetable garden (a few sad beets) and then fills his dump truck with fallen leaves, dumping them out to make piles in the grass. We talk about the birds at the feeder and why there are no bugs or spiders to look for. He picks up whirligigs from the red maple tree and tucks a few in his pockets and then heads off to stand by grandpa, who is talking to the neighbor over the fence. I take this moment to scoot inside to get my camera. I take photos of him of course, and a couple of the dog, and the birds, but it is those whirligigs that have captured my attention too.

It is later when I come inside and have time to slip my camera card into my computer, that I see I have indeed captured what was tugging at me as I stood among those whirligigs. On a day that others might call bleak and dreary, I saw beauty in the tiny nuances of the shifting of the season. The dreary bleakness only played into this shift, as the leaves had all fallen and the whirligigs were all that were left among the raindrops. I felt indebted to this tree, as I could feel something deep inside of me crack open.

I think about this awareness long after I close down my computer, asking myself how I might pay homage to this awakening after days of darkness? Ideas flit around inside my head in desperation, wanting to find ways to guarantee that it will keep flowing. But I have come to understand that this is part of who I am, and the important thing is not to shut down but rather keep at it over and over again.

morning Longing

“So come to the pond, or the river of your imagination, or the harbor of your longing, and put your lips to the world. And live your life. “
-Mary Oliver

I stand at the door and watch the flog lift over the lake, and marvel at the beauty as the sun touches the layers on the hills. I panic a bit, as I feel myself slip into complacently, knowing it is safe and will get me through the day. I balk at my yearning for more. Isn’t this enough? I ask. But deep within me I have a longing that just won’t rest. It has taken over my thoughts, invaded my sleep and consumed my every decision.

cutting the Christmas tree

“...freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night...”

― John Geddes, A Familiar Rain

reindeer Magic

 
 

His reindeer is waiting for him in the mail when he comes to play on Thursday. He plays with “Bob” the reindeer all day long. Introducing him to Baker and all the other animals he has in a basket on his toy shelf. He and Grandpa look up some reindeer facts and look at some pictures on the iPad. Bob watches as he eats his lunch, and while he takes his afternoon rest. Having limited exposure to Santa and his reindeer, he loves this deer for the beautiful creature that it is and I can tell he is a bit worried that he will have to leave him here, on the toy shelf when he goes home as he tells me how happy he is that he has a reindeer. I reassure him that Bob is supper excited to go home with him to meet mom and dad and live with him there.

 
 

5 fun facts about reindeer:

  1. Both the males and females grow antlers.

  2. Their noses are specially designed to warm the air before it gets to their lungs.

  3. Reindeer hooves expand in summer when the ground is soft and shrink in winter when the ground is hard.

  4. Some subspecies have knees that make a clicking noise when they walk so the animals can stay together in a blizzard.

  5. The first known written account of reindeer in association with the legend of Santa Claus occurred in 1821 in a booklet called ‘A New Year’s Present’.


Old Santeclaus with much delight
His reindeer drives this frosty night.
O'er chimneytops, and tracks of snow,
To bring his yearly gifts to you.
-William Gilley 1821

a world of Illusion

“We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion. The great task in life is to find reality" says Iris Murdoch.
But given the state of the world, is it wise?”
― Iris Murdoch

The muted tones of late autumn awaken something deep within me. I watch as she slips away, day by a day, making way for winter to emerge. I hold tight to this awakening, trusting it will be enough to hold me into the new season.

the winter Juncos

“Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul And sings the tune without the words And never stops at all.”

-Emily Dickinson

I try to take better note of my camera settings by slowing down and really seeking what it is I am after. But the birds are fast, faster than the toddler, and so to be honest, it is hit and miss. I would do better with a tripod, but that would mean being ready. Instead I rest my body and arm against the couch, as I am shooting through the front window. They are not perfect, but they make my heart sing.

opening Doors and Windows

The holiday season brings with it joy and memory making, along with some pain. I allow myself to feel all the emotions, without apology. I think about closed doors and windows and how I am making a cautious effort to open some of them a crack, knowing it all might backfire.

But also aware time is ticking.

“The years go by, we find our doors and windows. Some are always open, some never were.”

― Naomi Shihab Nye, Transfer