At long last, I have been able to visit my grandchildren. One weekend, I went to Elizabeth City. Another weekend, Mama and I went to Raleigh. It is with gladness, that I can write, all is well, with our family.
Lyla is growing up, right before my eyes-and I am still shocked! She has lost several teeth now and does not have a single ounce of “baby fat”! She reads books! She will be a seven year old, in April. Oh, these golden, shining seven years , have zoomed by. . .cruelly fast. Little Brynn is still cherub like. She loves to pick flowers. Jenny said a dozen dandelions were in her book bag yesterday. One day, she and I took a stroll by the laughing river She learned the names of several flowers and bushes. . and has been using them in conversations. Ryan hasn’t grown an inch, but he is bright and agile and sweet as any pie, ever made. I introduced him to Bob Ross, while I was there. That was an instant success. I also read “The Tale of Mr Jeremey Fisher” . It was a favorite of his Dads’-and Ryan loved it, too.. He retold the story, with many details, afterwards.
Seeing my grandchildren, acted like a tonic on me.
Days are mostly mild now and showers are liable to pop up. . .quite fitting for this time of the year. I wouldn’t yet plant tomatoes, but there is no harm in thinking about it. The geraniums still come in at night, sometimes.
The very small yard has clumps of green grasses in places, that are growing in an uncivilized manner. There are songbirds now, singing sweetly-and a small community of squirrels making hasty decisions, as they avoid cars and folks. That is about all the “wild” going on . . on Bonnet Street. I have seen the rabbit a time or two more. I wonder how he likes sidewalks. . for, I fear, I am “homesick”.
Maybe, it is because of spring’s arrival-maybe, it is the “sidewalk”. . .but, whatever it is, I just can not deny it. I miss the countryside with its’ big sky over the old trees. I miss seeing the sunsets, and rain coming across the fields-and the millions of stars that are hidden by street lights. The sight of the moon, and its’ milky light, falling through the windows , is an awful loss. Then, there are the whispering pines and the dainty violets along the garden path-and maybe, most of all -is the quiet sound of the territory. Silence . . that is often only broken by the mocking birds, and at night, the whip-poor-will calling out. I no longer care, that the grocery store is just minutes away.
It was bound to happen.
Now, I am sensible enough to know, that we do not always get what we want. I know that I can have happiness, wherever, I abide. I know the farmhouse is big and needs big repairs . . . and I am just like “that old gray mare”, as well. There are a lot worse things going on in this world than a homesick heart-and I remind myself of that, when I am whining about fields and trees and birds. . . .but, I have found that it is best to be truthful at all times. I know that, too.
After thinking about such things, I realised that it seems to be a lack of encounters with nature-wild things in wild places -and solitude, that bother me most. Even a small , sleepy town is just too civilized, to suit me, it seems. I suppose, that to me, there is just not enough liberty in a town, as well. God forbid ,the trash can is not properly placed!
In spite of all this . . . something wonderful has happened.
I know more about myself, than I ever have known. In some way, when you know what aggravates you, you discover what you love.-and what you need.
I liken it to , when I moved into the house on Bonnet Street. Some boxes did not make the move.
I had to sort through and figure out what things meant the most. The truth is for now, I am here , on a small lot in a small house, surrounded by friendly folks, with a sidewalk a few short paces from the porch. Since ,I believe that experiences are the “great lessons” in life, I am not a bit sorry. Instead, I must seek beauty in new ways.
The other day, I scavenged the yard for little wildflowers, to press. (I have several projects in mind to use them) In those moments, the world was hushed and quite serene. The same can be said when I am baking bread. I find it very satisfying and besides, being better for us . . it is better to us.
I know these things are small steps, but they are making a difference for me. Living close to the earth and with the earth . . is all I have ever known. All else, just seems shallow and artificial, to my primitive spirit.
It really is much easier to live on a street in a small town-easier on the body. Yard debris goes to the street instead of a garden, to be burned on the rare day, when the wind isn’t blowing. Thorned vines do not thrive in “tamed” spaces, so there is no endless battle, going on. You can order food, already prepared, to your doorstep. If you need anything, it is just five minutes away. I know such things are endearing to many people. It is really a sensible argument . . . oh, if only , I was sensible!
The last few years, I have been through one rabbit hole after another. I have prayed and tried to figure out about where my next home is. My financial situation is lacking any fanfare. That must be considered. . .as well as several other important matters.
I have always had difficulty knowing when to “let go and let God” as is often said. It seems when I have exhausted my heart and mind, is when I can “let God”-and sadly, not a moment before.
Until further notice, I will be listening to the gentle church bells, and gathering flowers and celebrate, “This day, that the Lord has made”. . . .and bake.