The remnants of a 10” snow fall 3 weeks ago paints the landscape in swirls and patches of ice encrusted mounds looking like frosting sprinkled with edible glitter sparkling in the sun filled blue sky. A sky that betrays the temperature on this day approaching the end of yet another year. Patches of grass gone dormant peak through, frozen and shocked by this yearly cycle, the long wait for spring newly begun.
I sit on this cold December day at the desk in my home office that faces the many windows which beckon me to this room each and every morning. This is my favorite place in this house that has become my home over the past 16 years. It is here where I come to sit and think, to read and write and watch the birds hungrily flock to the feeders right outside the window. Glancing up I see cold and hungry squirrels foraging the seeds fallen from the feeders above and I think about throwing corn out for them and the deer that frequent the yard looking for sustenance to help them through the long dark Northern winter.
Happiness is having newly filled feeders and the flashes of bright red against the snow as families of cardinals perch for a moment. I delight in seeing them high in a tree, bare branches revealing the bright red against the barren landscape. In spite of the climate change and the political ills polluting the world, nature is busy in my small corner of the world reminding me that nature, animals, trees, everything but human beings are living their true purpose every minute of every day, and that we, as humans, need to get out of their way so they are able to continue doing what it is they are on earth to do.
Simple pleasures are everywhere and I breathe in and try to notice each and every moment and allow myself to feel the sensations of those pleasures. Crawling into bed and letting go of the day, the covers pulled up to my chin and my sweet dog curled peacefully next to me, I am grateful for the privilege of the beautiful home I am gifted and the safety of my bed that allows me to release into a deep slumber.
Then there is the smell of thawing earth as the warmth of the springtime sun brings life back to the stillness that was winter and the happiness of the birds as the goldfinches turn back to their summer jackets of bright yellow and robins return from basking in the warmth of their winter homes. As I walk, scuffing the sand left behind from the melting snow, on the 22 mile bike trail behind our house, I catch the sweet smell of blossoms wafting past on the breeze. I pause in my steps and thoughts and search for what bush nearby is creating such magic, sparking memories of decades of springs gone by. Daffodils and tulips and then lilacs and peonies, bring color back to a grey world bathing my eyes in warmth and brightness. I am quickly hurdled back on a time machine fueled by smells and sights. The pink hues of peonies growing on bushes in my childhood yard bending to the weight of blossoms at their fullest, sprinkled with the dew of a cool May morning. There I am, a waif like 7 year old carefully plucking three of the most beautiful blooms, shaking them free of any stray ants caught up in the delicate pedals. Even at such a young age I am thinking of how I might delight another as I wrap the ends in a damp paper towel to keep them fresh. I hurry up the Baker Street hill toward the neighborhood elementary school and my 2nd grade teacher. Butterflies dip and swirl in my stomach and heart as I anticipate the happiness that will surely sweep across her face when I deliver to her this small piece of spring’s bounty that I now carry daintily in my small hands.
Predictably, summer will arrive, filling my senses with more memories and pleasures. The heat of the early summer sun beating down on my face warming my spirit as if it too is awakening from a long winter’s nap. The sound of the frogs in the pond nearby, croaking their mating calls long into the night. Summer birds returning home, the loud ruckus of varying calls, their happiness is contagious. I wait with anticipation for the first Baltimore oriole sighting and take pictures as it lands on the feeder. There will be more to follow, the bright orange color adding a cheeriness to the world unfolding before me. If I am lucky, and remain fastidious about replacing the sticky grape jelly and oranges, during the months ahead, they will bring their offspring and teach them how to feed themselves, keeping a watchful eye until such a time that they might fend for themselves. Smells of sunscreen, bike rides, hikes and long days that roll well into the night where I sit on the porch and listen to the cicadas, and crickets and breath in the humidity of the day that is ending.
Simple pleasures have a way of surrounding the soul connecting us with the immediate world and its offerings. Add to this human connection where one can feel the truth of who you are reflected in the soul of another. No matter what is happening in the larger picture, both near and far these moments in time, when we are able to pause, breathe in and open our eyes and hearts to what is in front of us, are the very roots that keep us grounded, that remind us of all that really matters.
Pause: The Space In-between 