Often after a dreary, cool, damp day, the sun comes out to kiss us goodnight causing the hill over the meadow to light up as if burning. Then the moon as darkness envelopes the earth, lighting up the surroundings more eerily. Getting out of my head into nature is the best cure for whatever is causing my negative loops which increase in the cold months. And exercise.
Suddenly my reverie breaks looking over the meadow as my footfalls come to a stop. Even in late fall there is beauty and action because birds and other critters are always busy. They don’t ‘think’, they move, sing, eat and just live. Getting ready for bed the thought arose, what’s the point? Each day awaking to what, what’s my purpose? But maybe, like the animals, it is to just live.
Live as fully as possible in each moment and cherish it.
Sunset in the West aglow on hill over the meadow in the East…taken on our back deck. (moon too)
Coming home after seeing loved ones not seen in so long instilled a new sense of vigor and rejuvenation. The sights outside evoke an overwhelmingly beauty impossible to absorb all at once. Take a breath.
Wanting to ‘do it all,’ impatient for the new day to start at bedtime, the calm voice interjects, take your time, things will get done. Enjoy each one. The only one pushing you… is you.
So take it easy. Do stuff. But do it at a pace where all parts stay together. Even here in this peaceful plot of land the topsy-turvy symptoms of PTSD can take over, and does take over without permission. But there are methods that sometimes stave it off.
Breathe. Go slowly. Enjoy. The gifts are free. Blossoms over my head in the wild pear tree while sitting creek-side. Gobs of flowers erupting in my gardens, but also chives and asparagus in the vegetable garden.
Never have the forsythia’s been so bountiful, almost glowing in their yellow bursting splendor. The quince, which has given babies now full-grown, are dark peach and gloriously adorning several areas.
Everywhere there is so much beauty, overwhelmingly so. It came on slow, but seems to suddenly want to explode.
Spring fever hit like Tigger on a pogo stick. Chemicals in my body usually bringing calm are mixed up like a tornado shooting to the moon. Walking before the sun rose over the hill was exhilarating, hearing the bird songs that had been absent all winter.
The creek burgeoning carrying tiny icebergs downstream, the snow beginning to glitter like diamonds after lap three when the golden orb appeared. Round and round, looking down at various prints in the snow.
Some like a coyote, then delicate like a bird. Squirrels, chipmunks, rabbits, possibly a fox! Though a lover of the outdoors, my skills at identifying each one are lacking. But they still tell a fascinating story.
A treat once again was to light another fire, but the March sun warms even more than the fire. The excitement of spring is hard to contain as more daylight wakes up something in me dormant all winter.