For mothers day I requested a morel hunt. In years past we have only found them by chance, not with intention. But mothers day luck would have it I suppose, and we found three juicy ones. There is little outside that doesn’t merit some type of bow in gratitude. It all makes my heart flutter- even the giant pile of manure (wait maybe especially the giant pile of manure). There is so much growing on the forest floor, in the garden, and around my house, every morning is a surprise. So glad for spring!
When I was a kid and lived by the ocean, nothing could beat starting the day with a run to the salty cove for a dip. I would go alone often, and sometimes meet friends – All of us knowing in our souls the beauty of wet sand sending ripples of light in perfect circles around our sneakers, the importance of seagulls and crashing waves touching our ears before any other sound- the magic that is immersing your whole body under a salty body of water before a regular day begins. Then I trotted off home to change into my school clothes, showering when I felt it necessary, but mostly keeping the salt on my skin to remind me of how good it all really is.
Running is like that. It takes you farther, earlier, quieter, than you could or would be otherwise. I imagine it to be a battle of synapses inside your brain. Some telling your legs to stop, and others insisting you just keep going, and some demanding you even to go faster. It has been a long, long time since I felt the rush of it all on a regular basis. Injuries and babies and shoulds standing in my way. I have ushered these roadblocks aside and made way for the whole thing lately. And this morning I am off to my first race in five years.
I have heard it is spectacularly beautiful- this course. I have heard it is crazy hard too. I am up for it.
These pictures have nothing to do with this post. Our game cam captured some critters that rise even earlier than I, and some gorgeous tulips from my Mama’s garden just because they are peach and blooming. Hopefully I have a good one of a grinning me after finishing this 10K for next week!
A first game of Tball can go many ways. The mass confusion, the wild excitement, the expectations… they can be a recipe for a really delectable dessert just as easily as a meal of rotten eggs. Oh sweet five and six year olds, they have an uncanny way of being absolutely unpredictable. Last night, a whole crew of them served up a tray full of melt-in-your-mouth, fresh out the oven chocolate chip cookies, for every face on that field that was plastered with a giant smile. These boys and girls were literally dancing on the field. When I told Rowan how much I liked his moves after the game he scowled at me. He had no knowledge of his fancy footwork at first base. None at all. Miles reassured him (and he was in the position to do so I may add, as the official “third coach”) that there was nothing to worry about, everyone was doing it. And he was right, those kids were all so happy and excited you could tell in every fiber of their being. It was like a bit of the full body baby laugh that everyone loves, spilling over into childhood. It just came bubbling out. I always hear the phrase, “My kids teach me more than I teach them”, and last night I learned so much.
My boy, just dancing on the field, having the time of his life. My heart is so full.
The buds on the willows are turning from their silvery- soft- velvet- rabbits- feet stage to the fluffy- Dr. Suess-ish truffula tree- lime green- over sized jelly bean stage. I can see the whorls of orange red flowers on the tops of the maples. I can see the red fog of all of them when I look at the hills. The leaves on the ground are no longer clumps of cold, black ice, the last bit of snow under the over hang of my garage is almost completely gone. The sound of rain, oh my goodness the sound of sweet rain on the windows has arrived.
And with that rain…
(excuse the blurry shot- just too cute, and take note of the frozen ice in the pond… over zealous fisherman they are!)
We have had to batten down the hatches due to a high fever in the house and it has kept us indoors much to our dismay. But yesterday around four o clock, I truly couldn’t take it anymore. I put a movie on for the three boys (Fireman Sam for those curious… to them that is the ONLY show), and I strapped Willow up on my back an walked through the rain to the mailbox. When we rounded the corner to the pasture the wind really picked up, as always does, and I tried to shield her face from the prickly blasts of rain by holding up the bottom of my jacket. I was able to peek back at her and much to my surprise and found her eyes closed, two tooth grinning with her nose directly in the wind- just like a dog in the car. I guess she wanted out to. I put down my coat and let my girl eat her cake. Of course there was only junk mail, but you know the trip was worthwhile anyhow.
We awoke to another few inches of snow this morning. With foggy eyes, confused and squinting, trying to recal the previous days snow melt then not being able to do the math, I stood at the window awhile. I saw juncos startling under the plops of snow the maple trees deposited atop our feeders. I saw them waste not a single ounce of energy, only moving far enough way to escape the bird sized avalanche. I saw the blue jay swoop in with an arrogance and brashness I could relate to- my morning latte requires the same level of fury. I laughed at myself and popped an extra vitamin D. I need it desperately, just to keep up.
The boys have long been outside now- as ignorant to the missing spring as the birds seem to be. I am one hand-typing trying to recall a moment from the week where I felt our distant star and the warmth she gave me.
We will walk. We will notice the beauty in what is, what must be, the last snow for the season. It is the minimal I am sure- giving precisely the amount of energy expenditure required for survival. Over and out.