Above photo by Lupine.
The kids and I, for obvious reasons, spent much of yesterday cleaning our house.
And while we never did get to the kitchen, we cleaned up enough dirt that I had to change out the vacuum bag and I managed to excavate my dresser top right down to the wood. (Who knew. My dresser wasn't actually made of piles of socks, stray necklaces, and knitting needes!)
What a difference some focused cleaning up can make.
But then to be honest I got a little lost in your comments on yesterday's post (I'm a bit of a comments junkie if you must know) and found myself checking in more than I meant to.
Because your. Comments. Are. Awesome. And I really love it when what I have to say resonates so much for you.
(Thank you. For encouraging me along this path. For inspiring my words and giving feedback to what I say.)
So I kept checking on-line. All darn day.
And the day that started so strong began running through my fingers.
It was cool, foggy, and drizzly (as in: perfect) so I told the kids to drop their feather dusters and get their muck boots.
Clean-up time was over.
We headed into the hills.
Lyme Disease has been funny (or maybe sad is a better word) in that I lost much of my physical energy for most of the summer. The creek just seemed so very far away that we didn't often go.
We still went, but not daily like we had been before, that is for sure.
If I dig deeper I'd admit to being a little tick-shy/terrified as well. Since my diagnosis Pete and Lupine also began treatment for Lyme. Good times. We're like an antibiotics warehouse over here.
Mercy it's been a rough year in that department.
But I digress. The point is, yesterday it was too misty magical to worry about ticks so we threw caution to the wind and headed into the woods.
And over me and in me and through me and around me washed the most profound presence and peace.
There was nowhere else to be. There was nothing else to do. There was only this.
Only here. With them. Now.
Oh, to buid each day on such presence.
The kids found a newly exposed vein of green clay in the hillside and brought home great hand-fulls of it and made pots and vases at our table before dinner.
The pottery was charming.
The mess was breathtaking.
The dinner was late.
But no bother. We were all so grounded in our experience that we hardly noticed the time as it slipped through our fingers.
But now in a very different, very lovely way.
