12.25.14 Somehow , my kids were such a pain this year.

Somehow , my kids were such a pain this year. 

So like many of us after get togethers, I find myself contemplating and reconfiguring that which fits, and that which does not . What is acceptable, and what will be no longer. 

After all, others are forever seeing what room we provide - and wandering in there. So it is up to us, both to be aware, and shift what we choose to offer, to fit us best. 

Reeling from the delicious but tiring mode of preparations, I'm resting, feeling a bit like an empty shell,
detecting the changing winds- perceiving on those winds a time to refocus, to let go. 

To redefine my own life more stringently, and rearrange the old parental spaciousness, in favor of a new self -as self, and too, as parent -with clear intent. 

Every now and then, as we continue to grow, and those around us do also, there arrive times for a little reordering. 

After all, who teaches others how to treat us, but ourselves? And who makes the choices of what and how and in what way, but us.

12.24.14 And then, all around us, was the sound of rain again,

This evening was warm and wet and dark, as I readied for bed.

     And then, all around us, was the sound of  rain again,  singing as it pattered upon field and roof and grasses and bough.

     As the light of day dimmed, and the enveloping night let show a few stars, glowing light-years from home.

     The deer in the wood fed well, and prepared for night’s rest, taking their turn to keep a watch out.

     The coyote, early winter full bellied, their thick coats of silver and grey and red shielding them from the gentle rain, nuzzling each other in affection and pack, and curled up with noses pressed into furred tails, near each other, in the easy relative warmth of this Christmas eve.

     My children, grown, were off laughing and playing with friends or in-laws, and the house stood peaceful,  high upon the hill, the mountain range dark and beautiful behind, the valley and view stretched out before .

     One by one, I let the three dogs out, the oldest to stand in the cool misty rain, as it soaked itself into her lustrous old fur, her nose to the fields and forest as she took in the smells that her eyes could no longer see, and her ears no longer heard.

     The cousin dog came happily to the back door, and tromped about by herself, her own home being across from ocean, so no yard to mill about in solace. She took quite some time, much to the chagrin of the pup, watching through the dining room windows, waiting to be with her again, and to be outside himself.  

      Each toweled off deliciously as they returned inside for the night.

      I looked over the room, at the red lights about the picture window. The bleached and ironed white tablecloth, and linen napkins placed just so. The old family silverware at the place settings, on either side of the great aunt’s Rose dishes. The tall silver candlesticks adorned with deep red candles; the wet foam awaiting dressing of greens tomorrow.

      I stepped outside myself, to stand in the doorway, which I often find myself doing, at the very end of my days. Watching the small raindrops in the night; feeling the mist upon me.

     I closed my eyes, breathing in the moment, the pause.

     The adapting to what is, and what is not. To a world of complexity and adversity and remarkable existence. To a planet in an orbit, in the middle of endlessness. My small life, nestled within it all.

     I turned, closed up the door and  down the lights, imagining the globe in space, from far far away, and  quietly blessed all that life.

12.24.14 Wishing all of you Tidings of Comfort, and Joy, from our paws to yours

12.23.14 Still with love for the season

It's been a quiet day and a rainy day and an overcast day, 

with sudden moments of clearing;

 as friends connect a bit, kids drop off dogs to go play with friends, adult style, the tree becomes dressed, 

lights appear round windows; 

various projects get predictably shelved,

 goals streamlined,

 bedtime comes early,

 each year more simple and sane than the last, 

still with love for the season 

and all the holidays it holds, 

and within it all, 

appreciation for the chance to live this life.

12.23.14 Today Is All Rain And Darkness And Quiet

Today is all rain and darkness and quiet; all the things that soothe my noisy brain, and enable slow steps, inside and out, upon the warmed soggy earth, where the winter's colors bloom. 

The mustard yellows of dried plants, and bright pinks of Elder branches. The blossoming , small and yellow, of the Witch Hazel, and the contrasted tangle of grasses everywhere.

The tree, scored by a bear, to announce it's territory, as only a bear can.

The erasable Bittersweet, climbing and conquering, leaving us with its vibrant orange and yellow, as it goes. 

The beautiful stark details of tree barks and lichen along their northern sides. 

The pungent fragrance of years of layers of pine needles, filling the air. The fresh acerbic aroma of bright green needles covering stolid neighborhoods of piney wood. 

The glistening waters, rippling with each passing breeze; partially frozen, partly not, the overlapping areas an intricate work of art.

The ochre colors of the stream, as it makes its way from pond to next stop, alongside so many many living beings that live by this land; by this water, beneath these skies.

There are so many things we treasure in our lives.

     And myself? I seem to have come full face, 

to the lingering love of the Pine Forest that grew me up

that sang to me as the wind passed through its boughs

 and pressed me with its quixotic strength that told to hold on

that so much would be possible.