I like to go out first thing in the morning, not long after waking. If weather permits, I always do so and have my first cup of coffee. in this way, I come to know the community of small animals that call the territory home, as we do. This morning I saw a band of squirrels working feverishly. My presence did not seem to make a bit of difference. They were too busy to glance my way, let alone give a morning greeting. A robin watched with me and I think he too was impressed with the agility and speed of the squirrels. They dashed about rapidly as if they were terribly late for something very important. I am glad I am not a squirrel, I thought.
I hadn’t been sitting long, when a bookmobile pulled up and parked near the corner. My daughter has not lived in her new house long and so it was a pleasant surprise. This may be “old hat” for many people here, but we do not have this service in Farm Life, and I had not seen one since my own children were little. If I were a resident, I’d have signed up this morning!
The Latter part of the day. . .
Jenny had errands to run-one being a check up for Lyla. All was well and I like the friendly and sensible doctor, who said Lyla was “perfect”. I napped with Lyla after lunch. I didn’t mean but to lie down, but I fell asleep, while Jenny unpacked some things and placed them in their new homes. Lyla and I took a stroll in the early evening and I met two sisters who built small homes that are joined by a living room. It is a neat arrangement and it reminded me of the beautiful bond of sisters-and family in general. The economy we face in our later years is daunting, so these sisters got creative and somehow it encouraged me.
When the Moon Was Rising . . .
I called Kyle and Christian in the evening. All was well at the rabbit patch and Christian did feed the kitten, which I will call “Ruth” if it is a girl.
Before bed, I took Lyla out to see the the light of the moon on the river beneath it. The Pasquotank river was so still, it seemed like a huge mirror. Lyla was very quiet and watched the scene intently. There is a certain look she gets on occasion and I do not speak when I see it. She is thinking great thoughts or at least giving great consideration to something. She and I watched for a while- or a year. At some point, she raised her little finger, pointed up and said “moon” , for the first time.
The content of the most ordinary days holds some splendor it seems, if I but examine the moments that made them. It is not a difficult task and most often beauty just leaps out and presents itself. Whether the moonlight falls on the river beneath it, or illuminates an old oak growing by a ditch bank, makes no difference. The day does not withhold beauty from any segment of the population, but instead is generous with all that seek it.