I spent the day in the yard mowing and weeding. My husband got the weed whacker going so I was able to clear the path most of the way down to the creek before it ran out of gas. Talk about a sense of accomplishment. After a shower, I went back outside to sit on the porch to watch the sun set. When the mosquitoes started biting, I was inspired to light the citronella candles. Their glowing flickering flames wanted company, so all the decorative candles joined them. I sat on the porch, rocking gently, listening to crickets and frogs, watching the sky shift from light blue to dark purple as the stars appeared one by one. I breathe deeply smelling damp earth and cut grass, feeling the air cool off as darkness falls, bathed in the warm yellow glow of candle light dancing on the porch.
Sometimes, if the cat fur bothers me profusely, I will sleep on the porch in my camping hammock with it set up on the hammock stand. Now that our summer patio rock is set up, I think it would be nice to have a place in the woods behind the house to set it up. I spent a little time today preparing a good spot. I found two trees the perfect distance apart and cleared the brush away from them, raked the dead leaves and made a path down to the house and over to the patio rock. As it started to get dark, I hung the hammock and climbed in to watch the blue time soak into the woods. Some uncertain time later, I realized I had dozed, the moon was up over the hill spilling its silvery light between the trees. I knew I would get chilled trying to spend the night there without a sleeping bag, so I climbed out and went inside, mind and body full of peace and quiet.
Sitting on the porch in the evening, watching the sun sink lower in the sky, listening to the outside world wind down into the blue time. The song birds are making a last dash to the feeders before nestling into their nests for the night. I’m rocking and spacing out when a flash of red catches my eye, a red breasted grosbeak is sitting on the feeder, trying to munch seeds, black wings flapping to keep its balance on the swinging feeder. Looking down I find its mate brown and tan strips to blend into the background. As he thrashes on the swaying feeder, seeds rain down around her. She is content to peck them from the grass, while he puts on a hilarious show or flashing red black and white feathers. Eventually he find purchase and calm enough to crunch the black oil seeds open. I sit and watch them until they eat their fill and fly away into the twilight. Another sure sign of Spring being finally here to stay, now that the grosbeaks are back!
I enjoy doing yard work, being outside, feeling the sun warm my skin, breathing fresh air, smelling damp earth. There are days where I will wake up early, get dressed, go outside, and not to come in until after dark. Today I worked on cleaning and organizing my gardening table. I pulled out the little solar lights from the container they had been dropped in last fall. I wiped them off, reassembled them, and set them all up in the yard to charge in the bright spring sunshine. I moved on to cleaning out the flower beds, and other spring yard chores. Later, as the sun set and darkness fell, the little solar lights blinked on one by one, so I moved them each to a strategic spot among the flower beds all around the yard. Then sat on the porch admiring the soft fairy lights glowing merrily throughout the lawn. Soft spring evenings purple and blue, warm air cooling down to a chill, and velvety luminous lanterns like willow-the-wisps in the flowing night.
YEAH!!!! The sun beams once again at sunset hit the prism wind-chime hanging on the porch so that the whole living room dances with bright rainbows for a few minutes before the sun disappears behind the western hill above us. It is like something from a fantasy land to sit on the sofa and have tiny luminous rainbows swirling their radiant colors across all the surfaces in the room. When I look out toward the wind-chime the brilliant miniature rainbows flash in my eyes dazzling with pure light. It is truly a fantastic sight.
Warm today, at least in the afternoon. It is almost 50 degrees Fahrenheit, so I decide I need to be outside and enjoy the (relative) warmth and bright sunshine. I am unabashedly afraid of falling on the ice again, so I am not going anywhere near the road. I use strap on grippy cleats to walk down the stairs to the snow covered yard. There I set up a lawn chair, and sit in it facing the sun as it slowly descends toward the western horizon (the hilltop across the hollow). I breath deeply, slowly, methodically, trying to loose myself in the breath. Close my eyes and feel the week radiant heat of the sinking yellow sun, listen to the birds, the creek, the dripping water, smell the wet earth with each inhalation. Peaceful. I sit there, half in and half out of reality, until a chill wind stirs the branches and breaks the spell. I head back inside as the silver sun silently slips out of sight. Sitting in a lawn chair in the snow is a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.
Another thaw, warmer than freezing air, snow melting into the frozen ground. I sit on the porch bundled in a rocker, pink cast in a black sling, holding my wrist above the level of my heart. I am still in a state of mental shock and disbelief of what I did to myself. The broken bone radiates a constant feverish pain in my wrist, and the cast is an annoying irritation along my whole lower arm. And now I am worrying about all the radiation my I will be subject to in the next few weeks. Ugh!
I came outside to sit, breath the cold fresh air, clear my head, and try to relax; I am screaming and crying inside my head, heart pounding, pulse fast and throbbing. I wish this panic would dissipate, melt away like the snow. I notice the icicles along the porch roof, glistening in their winter wetness, shimmering in the blue grey half light of an overcast day, and dripping. The tiny water droplets sliding down the rippled icicle, growing at its point until gravity is stringer than cohesion and they fall away to join all the the other water molecules melting into slush on the ground. I zoom in, focus my attention onto the dripping icicles and space out on the rhythmic dripping as the drops hit the snow puddles below. I sit and rock and watch the ice melt for a long time, until I get cold. I think the sun is setting as the grey day has shifted to a darker grey and the temperature is starting to drop again. Calmer and cooler, I head back into the house to sit in front of the fire to warm up. All that water, dripping through my soul, washing the furies away.