afternoon, the setting sun tinted the fog a rosy pink and the trees, darkened
by the rain, stood out stark against a backdrop of cotton candy. It looked like a scene straight out of a
gusts of wind work to sweep away the clouds, huffing and puffing along like a
janitor behind a giant push broom. In
the wake of winter, in the snow’s receding, a day, a week, a month of yard work
leaf-piles, abandoned where they lay last fall.
Bushes to be
pruned, old growth to be broken and tossed aside.
There are a
lot of carcasses too. Decapitated birds
surface and the skins of squirrels, their vital organs consumed. Who knew we had so many predators, so much
death lurking around while we and the ground are sleeping our way through
Everyone I talk to is eager for Spring, ready for this long, cold winter to be over. It was a hard winter, they say, but all I know
is that last winter was so. much. harder. for us – this winter was a cake-walk
honest, when I look at spring, I see work.
I see the
need to re-oufit the kids in new sizes and weights of clothing – out with the
corduroy and in with the denim. I see
the need for more than one pair of shoes each, so the inevitably mud-caked pair
can be left in the aptly named mud room to dry for days before being clacked
together like chalk-board erasers over the sidewalk.
coop needs repair, the porch needs to be washed, and the wood pile
should be moved. Did I mention the grass, the garden, the unfinished home improvement project we meant to wrap-up in winter that still straggles along?
I could make
a list as long and wide as the wind-swept sky and there’d be nothing fairytale-like
about it. Unless, of course, it included a fairy Godmother with a sparkling magic wand to make it all just disappear – now THAT would be something.
1. A tiny,
sherbert-y concoction of blues, pinks and oranges in the impossibly soft quilt
that covers my bed.
inquisitive tilt of the dog’s ears as she puzzles over our family life.
4. The way
clarity after a period of indecision settles everything into place,
like a safe door swinging open when the right combination is spun.
5. Getting a
great deal on a little luxury.
the vibration and listening to the rattly engine of my kitten’s purr.
the hearth after it’s swept clean of wood chips and ash.
work that requires focus, done in a calm, quiet setting.
plants, walking into the “little house” to see that my Great-great Grandmother’s
Christmas Cactus in bloom.
the first signs of spring – the green buds poking out beneath a barren shrub,
two blue birds flocking by the Holly bush.
on the bare floor by the wood stove.
my husband handle Sunday meals.
churring sounds our big cat, Blackie, makes when looking for his little friend,
feeling of coming home.
Laughter, humor, and irony.
with the kids at the end of an animated movie.
beginnings, new ideas.
My husband and I were talking in the kitchen the other day about the likelihood that one of us would one day get Cancer and the unsettling fact that Alzheimers is America’s number six killer – you know, typical end-of-winter, rainy-gray-day chit-chat.
“So I guess this really is as good as it gets,” I said and he agreed.
That line’s stuck with me ever since – this is as good as it gets.
This moment, right here, right now, with the yard work waiting, the children growing like loud, lanky weeds. These stolen moments typing under my sherbert-y quilt, the kitten at my side. These hours with the wind howling, the chickens foraging in the leaf pile, the dog smelling all of the good dead smells there are to be found in a yard laid bare of one season, open and waiting for the next.
This is as good as it gets and, looking at it that way, I can see how the work and the things I love mingle together, almost inseparable, two lists made one in a swirling fog – love, presence, and attention to what is turning this gray world an almost magical shade of pink.
* * * *
Welcome to the #SmallWonder link-up.
What if we chose to deliberately look for the small moments of wonder, the small sparks of presence, of delight or sorrow, of true humanity in which we meet God?
That’s my proposal – that we might gather here each week to share one moment of Wonder from each of our days.
You’re invited to link-up a brief post of about five hundred words or less about a small moment of wonder. Don’t worry if your post is too long, too short, or not just right – you’re welcome to come as you are.
While you’re here, please do take a look around and encourage at least one other blogger with a comment.