Wednesday, May 1, 2013

So close to perfect ...

My hands smell of rosemary and thyme. They are what's left in my garden - along with the Chives That Will Not Die and a lone green onion sprout - after what feels like the longest winter ever.

Sometimes I think God must allow us to feel a little pain so we remember just how blessed we are once the sun shines again. Oh, and am I ever thankful the sun is shining now. I am thankful for these recent days of warmer temperatures, and the beautiful thunderstorm I awoke to yesterday morning. Day after day I think today couldn't possibly be better than yesterday. And then it is.

I go through periods of discontent. There are times when I think I might not be on the right path. I wonder if this crazy life we live is really the right life for us. But then I take a long look in the mirror and I see the pink cheeks and shoulders from a day spent in the sun and I know: this is the right path, we are in the right place, I am and I have enough.

We've had an amazing few days. Lots of sunshine and family time. The kids and I spent much of last weekend outdoors, raking and shoveling and prepping for summer. My plants and shrubs are starting to poke up through the ground and show some color. It all makes me so happy.

One evening the kids asked me to go back to the creek with them - a short ride on the golf cart on family property - and it's a wonder we ever came back. It's so beautiful out there. The birds were singing ... frogs croaking ... kids playing and exploring. We all got our feet wet. I took a few pictures, which I will share when I download them from my phone.

Even my allergies have been minimal, which surprises me with all the time I have spent outside and sleeping at night with my bedroom window open. Not to mention two shedding dogs. Mercy. I spent about a half hour outside brushing Gunnar this morning and got a good bushel of fur (I swear!) before he had enough. It cost me a chicken breast to keep him distracted, but no sneezing! And then he thanked me by laying in a mud puddle. *sigh* It's a good thing I'm pretty much ignoring the interior of the house right now because two dogs and a swampy back yard make spring cleaning a lesson in futility. If I can't stand to look at it anymore I just go outside. Which is where I'm headed now.

All this activity is good for the soul. As I walk around and survey the progress of our little homestead I am grateful for the opportunity to be present, not just in the grand scheme, but daily, for the small moments. I can appreciate the small changes, the growth, the color, even if I only see it in passing as I chase down Gunnar The Giant Puppy to retrieve my gardening glove.

Life is good.

1 comment:

  1. I love this. Is there anything better than the smell of fresh herbs on your hands? I knew a woman once who kept a large pot of rosemary in her house. She would walk by and tousle it with both hands, like you would do with a young boy's hair. The air was so delicious in her house. She would hold her hands to her face, look skyward, and breathe deeply, smiling. Loved it.

    I have some chives-that-will-not-die. I brought them here from our old house. Given to me by my mother in law. At the old house I stuck them under the pine tree in the sand. Here, by the boulder wall in the sand. They live, and live, and live. Bless them.

    For me life is a constant lesson in learning to appreciate the small things. You describe it beautifully. I wish we were closer. We could share plants.

    I also love your naughty giant puppy.

    hugs. J.