I love this. And who knows what it is? Does it matter? ; )
Here's my glimpse: Today begins my 48th trip around the sun. Life seems simpler now. Or maybe it's just me, and I'm getting simpler. While enjoying a coffee and pastry with my wife this morning, I realized I no longer want the things I used to want in the way I used to want them. My sense of Self is clearer while, at the same time, my self-identity is peeling like old paint. I'm not bothered by it, but it is still confusing at times. I feel like I have a foot in two different worlds: the known and the unknown. I feel like all of the teachers and lessons I've learned over the years have led me deep into the wilderness, but no one bothered to tell me how to get out. That's okay too. The view is nice here. : )
VIEW FROM MY KITCHEN BENCH - Shenandoah Valley of Virginia
I took my coffee out to the kitchen bench to enjoy the 65℉ temperature and the early morning sunshine. If I was expecting peace and quiet, I was mistaken.
The birdsong assails me—a cacophony of sounds.—the dawn chorus. At first, it is unrecognizable, but as I relax and keep listening, my ear begins to pick up the calls of familiar avian friends. Loudest are the Northern Cardinal, Carolina Wren, and Tufted Titmouse, punctuated by the dive-bombing buzz of the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds and their high-pitched chitter.
Looking up, I see a lone doe quietly walking through the pine grove and into the deeper woods. Undoubtedly, she’s part of a herd that has been decimating my new plantings every evening. Sigh…
A soft breeze caresses my face, stirs the leaves in the pot of blooming Mandevilla next to me, and carries a waft of honeysuckle mixed with the unpleasant fragrance of our chestnut tree blossoms.
My majestic Catalpa tree stands sentinel over my yard. Tall and serene, its seed pods dangle like ornaments or earrings from its branches.
The wind sculpture isn’t turning, but a long wisp of Alpaca wool from my nesting ball is stirring in the zephyr. It was no doubt pulled out by the Phoebe on my porch who lined her nest with it.
It is now 8 am, and human noises are beginning to intrude: a neighbor calling his dog and cars starting and passing across the field on Black Bear Road.
How grateful I am for the time and place to immerse myself in the natural beauty all around me. Watching this world from the same spot throughout the year—engaging all my senses—gives me a renewed appreciation for Nature’s rhythms and the critical perspective that I am just a small part of a big, incredible world.
I wake up every morning with my husband not in my bed and I am happy. The sun is shining through my gold, shear curtains. I see my tree branches dancing in the shadows.
I had a night of quiet sleep without disturbance. He snores, lately, so do I. I don’t hear mine... most of the time. My right side nostril closes up when I sleep on that side, despite the nasal spray and humidifier that runs all night.
Sometimes when he walks into the bedroom in the morning, I pretend to be asleep. I’m not ready to converse. I’m not ready to be nice...cordial, loving.
I love him. He is a good partner in so many ways AND yet. we are paradoxically different.
Is this what marriage is supposed to look like after 29 years together?
How would I know? I’ve never seen anyone in my family married this long.
Of course, you’re two different people after all of the life that happened during those years raising three boys to men. Two of them are autistic and we’re still raising them in a sense. I don’t know if we will ever be done raising at least one of them. I keep waiting for him to do all of the things I know he’s capable of.
It’s okay for me to wake up alone and not ready to talk. These men I’ve raised and the one I’ve married to have talked enough to last a lifetime.
I am talked out.
Whew!!! Is this thing on? Don’t tell anyone I said all of this. (Sarcasm font)
There is a depth here that cannot be faked, an honesty that can only be felt. Thank you for sharing. No amount of advice or truisms can compete with lived experience.
After 52 years of marriage to my high school sweetheart we still sleep together. He is the early riser so I have quiet time every morning for self. Silence is peace for me. Raised 4 children and now have 9 grandchildren to admire and love. Silence is definitely peace for me.
A shared view of life! I sleep on the opposite side of the house to my husband, who snores and has irritable leg syndrome. He's the practical necessity in my life and I'm the dreamer in his. Together we've cross the world, lived lives we would never have expected and shared joy and tragedy together. We don't always agree but we do compliment each other. Without my dreaming we would never have left our place of birth. Without his carefully chosen approach to anything he does, we would probably not lived this long.
A faint whimper jolts me awake. I look at the clock. 2:12. Is she hungry? Will she settle back into the lull of sleep? I snap back awake at 3:38. Ah, this is the 4 month sleep regression - allow her to soothe herself. 5:01. I check the monitor. She’s most definitely hungry. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and allow their weight to counter my torso and sit-up. I find my slippers and push my feet into their cozy embrace before standing and rubbing my eyes. This has been my life now for 16 weeks and 4 days. Day in day out. Sleep, eat, play, poop. And somehow, in those 16 weeks and 4 days, my daughter has grown and changed and developed the most charming personality. I pick her up from her bassinet and grab my blanket to throw over my legs as I know I will be sleeping the next two hours in the chair in the corner of our room. I release my breast and there is an immediate suckling sound. My mind wonders from my best friend who just delivered a baby to work to what my husband may be dreaming about. I look down and admire the beautiful human that has been sustained by my body alone since she had been placed back in my body as a 5 day old embryo. Oh! We had longed for this child for ages. And here she was. Drinking. Smiling. And slowly slipping my nipple out of her mouth and settling in for the remainder of the night, resting on my lap, snuggled in close so we can hear each others heartbeats, right where we desire to be. Where we are meant to be. Together.
I was thinking similarly one morning. Musing. Pondering. What does forming these words cost me? This summer, I am sinking deeper in debt to time spent writing. Right now, colonies of squatters are huddled in the hallway, under the furniture. Dust Bunnies, whose feathery bodies float in and out from under things as I walk by. I think they are taunting me. They’ve been allowed to grow into mutant sizes. Long ago, my vacuum died of loneliness. Laundry, what’s that? The shower, no, you don’t want to know.
Many days I am stuck, paralyzed by the process of turning the action and emotion that lives vividly in my mind into story to be read on the page. What I write feels like ash, a remnant of a blaze.
Today I typed a few words, changed the sheets, folded some clothes, baked a chicken. Maybe today I broke even.
In the quiet early morning hours I fill the hummingbird feeders with nectar and their moats with water. I continue this morning ritual, heading to the pollinator garden to clean the butterfly water bowls and hopefully photograph the butterflies feeding and perhaps catch a glimpse of a dragonfly. I call these little bits if writing-reflections of place.
I really like the way you are aiming for authenticity - showing up as a human being before any other piece of identity that you may have signed up for or inadvertently found yourself wearing. It's become a gps for me in life and one of my primary filters for who I spend time with as I age.
What a great prompt!! I shared mine in a re-stack but will copy here as well. Thank you, Jeff!
A snapshot of my day:
Awakened from my slumber by the sound of a baby crying, I slip into my smiley-face slippers and stumble to her room to change and feed her. She cries until the moment I pick her up. We pass by the mirrored closet door so that she can smile and wave to herself — our new morning ritual. She starts to whine again the instant I lay her down to change the loaded poop diaper (a consequence of solid foods). Once that’s done, we sit in the rocking chair by the window to nurse. I watch the soft morning light pour in through the cracks on either side of the curtain, blanketing her doughy skin. I rub and gently squeeze her baby rolls. At 9 months, she is almost too big to lay across this chair. Her pudgy toes press against the chair arm, her fingers resting on my chest. A moment of bliss before we rush off into the day.
And then, she clamps down on my nipple with her two bottom teeth. I yelp, jolting us both back into reality. She looks up at me and smiles, a throaty giggle escaping her lips. I kiss her forehead as I rise from the chair. Off we go into our Tuesday!
A hint of sunshine peeping out from the dark wintery clouds as I look out from my office window. The Country Hour on the radio says next week is the first time since May that no rain is forecast. Venturing outdoors is only possible with gumboots and an oilskin for the drizzle. The water pours out of the hills behind us and leaves a sodden mess. Kangaroo poo is dotted across our front lawn as a mob seeks a drier spot and lush green grass when the daylight is minimal. It is a time to linger in front of the wood heater with fingers wrapped around a warming beverage as one just rests in the moment before getting back on the treadmill of demands!
A fellow Aussie, unless you have rogue roos in your district. My view is north to the Yarra Ranges and south to the Strzleckis. We had 13 acres in The Dandenongs before we moved to Gippsland so we saw our fair share up there including a resident lyrebird. Where are you writing from Lynn?
Hello Gail, they could be described as rogue roos by many of the local farmers and holiday makers trying to dodge them! I have lived in the beautiful High Country near Mansfield, Victoria for the last six years. My husband and I are on 25 acres and at the moment have one kangaroo per acre! Gippsland is a beautiful part of the world too. Feel free to check out my blog about my escape to the country and life on 25 Acres!
I like this Jeff. And it does have a poetic rhythm at least half of it. I love your realness. Otherwise, if not real, it is not for public consumption (imho). Or rather...it has little values for others if not authentic. Big hugs.
I have mine, 4 of them, hanging at the edge of the patio plus one in the kitchen window. They are not in full sun and are at least 12 feet apart. They seem to like to have a space to light nearby… so they can watch the feeders and zoom in ! They like to light on my wind chimes nearby and they hide in the pampas grass nearby! They are big bullies at the beginning of their visit but become more cooperative as the crowd grows. They do like to return to the same places each year -so if you are living in an area that is newly inhabited by humans it may take a summer or two. Be patient, they will come! I don’t purchase prepared nectar. I make my own - 4 parts water to 1 part sugar, it’s my mother’s secret recipe :-). Just refill at least weekly. I premix and keep it cold in the fridge … I do actually yell out loud “cold one” when I refill one. Late this summer and early-mid fall they will start their migration back to Mexico.. so if you haven’t attracted any by then you’ll have a chance to catch a few migrating crowds !
A day in my life consists of beginning with my rituals as I sit outside in my swing overlooking the water. Alone for awhile in thought and refleciton of the summer sun all around me. A new puppy that is difficult to train. Grandsons that come and go by bike from their home in the next town. I marvel at Mother Nature’s beauty and wish I could share this moment of peace...
It is not a poem or an essay. It is an exhale from the heart. The paper was just there to catch the words as they wafted past.
I love that. Thank you, Garry.
that was a nice image, Garry
Love that imagery, Garry.
Here's mine:
Sitting at my desk in the daylight, I think longingly of the days before our toddler and the free time I had.
Sitting by the crib in the moonlight, as he refuses to sleep without me, a gift: free time, returned to me, maybe until dawn.
Beautiful essence of motherhood. It goes fast. Treasure these times.
I love this. And who knows what it is? Does it matter? ; )
Here's my glimpse: Today begins my 48th trip around the sun. Life seems simpler now. Or maybe it's just me, and I'm getting simpler. While enjoying a coffee and pastry with my wife this morning, I realized I no longer want the things I used to want in the way I used to want them. My sense of Self is clearer while, at the same time, my self-identity is peeling like old paint. I'm not bothered by it, but it is still confusing at times. I feel like I have a foot in two different worlds: the known and the unknown. I feel like all of the teachers and lessons I've learned over the years have led me deep into the wilderness, but no one bothered to tell me how to get out. That's okay too. The view is nice here. : )
Love that you're embracing the mystery and the paradox.
Happy belated bday, my friend. I love learning from and with you.
Happy birthday!
I appreciate being in the wilderness most of the time. Thank You!
VIEW FROM MY KITCHEN BENCH - Shenandoah Valley of Virginia
I took my coffee out to the kitchen bench to enjoy the 65℉ temperature and the early morning sunshine. If I was expecting peace and quiet, I was mistaken.
The birdsong assails me—a cacophony of sounds.—the dawn chorus. At first, it is unrecognizable, but as I relax and keep listening, my ear begins to pick up the calls of familiar avian friends. Loudest are the Northern Cardinal, Carolina Wren, and Tufted Titmouse, punctuated by the dive-bombing buzz of the Ruby-throated Hummingbirds and their high-pitched chitter.
Looking up, I see a lone doe quietly walking through the pine grove and into the deeper woods. Undoubtedly, she’s part of a herd that has been decimating my new plantings every evening. Sigh…
A soft breeze caresses my face, stirs the leaves in the pot of blooming Mandevilla next to me, and carries a waft of honeysuckle mixed with the unpleasant fragrance of our chestnut tree blossoms.
My majestic Catalpa tree stands sentinel over my yard. Tall and serene, its seed pods dangle like ornaments or earrings from its branches.
The wind sculpture isn’t turning, but a long wisp of Alpaca wool from my nesting ball is stirring in the zephyr. It was no doubt pulled out by the Phoebe on my porch who lined her nest with it.
It is now 8 am, and human noises are beginning to intrude: a neighbor calling his dog and cars starting and passing across the field on Black Bear Road.
How grateful I am for the time and place to immerse myself in the natural beauty all around me. Watching this world from the same spot throughout the year—engaging all my senses—gives me a renewed appreciation for Nature’s rhythms and the critical perspective that I am just a small part of a big, incredible world.
As I shrink, so do my problems.
Beautiful. Perfectly written.
Well as a long-time admirer of YOUR writing, you just made my day. Thank you, Jeff.
I am envious of your view!
After 45 years, I still pinch myself and give thanks for living in such a special place.
Mother Nature heals us. Daily I embrace her as well!
I wake up every morning with my husband not in my bed and I am happy. The sun is shining through my gold, shear curtains. I see my tree branches dancing in the shadows.
I had a night of quiet sleep without disturbance. He snores, lately, so do I. I don’t hear mine... most of the time. My right side nostril closes up when I sleep on that side, despite the nasal spray and humidifier that runs all night.
Sometimes when he walks into the bedroom in the morning, I pretend to be asleep. I’m not ready to converse. I’m not ready to be nice...cordial, loving.
I love him. He is a good partner in so many ways AND yet. we are paradoxically different.
Is this what marriage is supposed to look like after 29 years together?
How would I know? I’ve never seen anyone in my family married this long.
Of course, you’re two different people after all of the life that happened during those years raising three boys to men. Two of them are autistic and we’re still raising them in a sense. I don’t know if we will ever be done raising at least one of them. I keep waiting for him to do all of the things I know he’s capable of.
It’s okay for me to wake up alone and not ready to talk. These men I’ve raised and the one I’ve married to have talked enough to last a lifetime.
I am talked out.
Whew!!! Is this thing on? Don’t tell anyone I said all of this. (Sarcasm font)
There is a depth here that cannot be faked, an honesty that can only be felt. Thank you for sharing. No amount of advice or truisms can compete with lived experience.
After 52 years of marriage to my high school sweetheart we still sleep together. He is the early riser so I have quiet time every morning for self. Silence is peace for me. Raised 4 children and now have 9 grandchildren to admire and love. Silence is definitely peace for me.
A shared view of life! I sleep on the opposite side of the house to my husband, who snores and has irritable leg syndrome. He's the practical necessity in my life and I'm the dreamer in his. Together we've cross the world, lived lives we would never have expected and shared joy and tragedy together. We don't always agree but we do compliment each other. Without my dreaming we would never have left our place of birth. Without his carefully chosen approach to anything he does, we would probably not lived this long.
Thank you for your insight.
A faint whimper jolts me awake. I look at the clock. 2:12. Is she hungry? Will she settle back into the lull of sleep? I snap back awake at 3:38. Ah, this is the 4 month sleep regression - allow her to soothe herself. 5:01. I check the monitor. She’s most definitely hungry. I swing my legs to the side of the bed and allow their weight to counter my torso and sit-up. I find my slippers and push my feet into their cozy embrace before standing and rubbing my eyes. This has been my life now for 16 weeks and 4 days. Day in day out. Sleep, eat, play, poop. And somehow, in those 16 weeks and 4 days, my daughter has grown and changed and developed the most charming personality. I pick her up from her bassinet and grab my blanket to throw over my legs as I know I will be sleeping the next two hours in the chair in the corner of our room. I release my breast and there is an immediate suckling sound. My mind wonders from my best friend who just delivered a baby to work to what my husband may be dreaming about. I look down and admire the beautiful human that has been sustained by my body alone since she had been placed back in my body as a 5 day old embryo. Oh! We had longed for this child for ages. And here she was. Drinking. Smiling. And slowly slipping my nipple out of her mouth and settling in for the remainder of the night, resting on my lap, snuggled in close so we can hear each others heartbeats, right where we desire to be. Where we are meant to be. Together.
This was very brave, IMO, Liz. Thank you for sharing it.
Our snapshots are similar! You can see mine below. I am a few months ahead of you. Congrats mama, and beautiful writing! :)
Beautiful...
I was thinking similarly one morning. Musing. Pondering. What does forming these words cost me? This summer, I am sinking deeper in debt to time spent writing. Right now, colonies of squatters are huddled in the hallway, under the furniture. Dust Bunnies, whose feathery bodies float in and out from under things as I walk by. I think they are taunting me. They’ve been allowed to grow into mutant sizes. Long ago, my vacuum died of loneliness. Laundry, what’s that? The shower, no, you don’t want to know.
Many days I am stuck, paralyzed by the process of turning the action and emotion that lives vividly in my mind into story to be read on the page. What I write feels like ash, a remnant of a blaze.
Today I typed a few words, changed the sheets, folded some clothes, baked a chicken. Maybe today I broke even.
Clear. Visceral. Important. Thank you for sharing, Denise.
Love the reference to dust bunnies taunting you.
In the quiet early morning hours I fill the hummingbird feeders with nectar and their moats with water. I continue this morning ritual, heading to the pollinator garden to clean the butterfly water bowls and hopefully photograph the butterflies feeding and perhaps catch a glimpse of a dragonfly. I call these little bits if writing-reflections of place.
We have a feeder and can’t seem to get the hummingbirds to come. Any tips?
I really like the way you are aiming for authenticity - showing up as a human being before any other piece of identity that you may have signed up for or inadvertently found yourself wearing. It's become a gps for me in life and one of my primary filters for who I spend time with as I age.
I appreciate how you continue to show up in the loves of people you care about, myself included. Thank you for the encouragement. It matters. A lot.
And thank you for "getting it."
What a great prompt!! I shared mine in a re-stack but will copy here as well. Thank you, Jeff!
A snapshot of my day:
Awakened from my slumber by the sound of a baby crying, I slip into my smiley-face slippers and stumble to her room to change and feed her. She cries until the moment I pick her up. We pass by the mirrored closet door so that she can smile and wave to herself — our new morning ritual. She starts to whine again the instant I lay her down to change the loaded poop diaper (a consequence of solid foods). Once that’s done, we sit in the rocking chair by the window to nurse. I watch the soft morning light pour in through the cracks on either side of the curtain, blanketing her doughy skin. I rub and gently squeeze her baby rolls. At 9 months, she is almost too big to lay across this chair. Her pudgy toes press against the chair arm, her fingers resting on my chest. A moment of bliss before we rush off into the day.
And then, she clamps down on my nipple with her two bottom teeth. I yelp, jolting us both back into reality. She looks up at me and smiles, a throaty giggle escaping her lips. I kiss her forehead as I rise from the chair. Off we go into our Tuesday!
Hurray for new life! And best wishes to you during a challenging but rewarding season.
The comfort of a shared experience! And teeth - I would be lying if I didn’t admit they make me nervous!
Haha. I bet! Vulnerable in every since of the word. So nice to hear from you and see you here. Sending you love from afar.
Thanks for the memories...
thank you for reading!
Do you eat cherries in the break room at Walmart?
Is spitting the seeds too uncouth?
There is probably not a rule
and far grosser things have happened in the store
I’ll take plums today.
The bus runs in a loop every half hour
It dropped me off at 7:43
At 5:13, I waited.
From 11 to 6 it arrives on the 5’s and 35’s.
Deputy Director, career advisor, training coordinator, development, communications, volunteer manager, events director, administration assistant -
I am not good enough for any of those
But stocking the shelves at Walmart as a temp,
I got this job.
I like this.
A hint of sunshine peeping out from the dark wintery clouds as I look out from my office window. The Country Hour on the radio says next week is the first time since May that no rain is forecast. Venturing outdoors is only possible with gumboots and an oilskin for the drizzle. The water pours out of the hills behind us and leaves a sodden mess. Kangaroo poo is dotted across our front lawn as a mob seeks a drier spot and lush green grass when the daylight is minimal. It is a time to linger in front of the wood heater with fingers wrapped around a warming beverage as one just rests in the moment before getting back on the treadmill of demands!
Wow. This felt so exotic and interesting to me. 25 acres! Wow. I can't wait to read more about your adventures in the High Country. :)
A fellow Aussie, unless you have rogue roos in your district. My view is north to the Yarra Ranges and south to the Strzleckis. We had 13 acres in The Dandenongs before we moved to Gippsland so we saw our fair share up there including a resident lyrebird. Where are you writing from Lynn?
Hello Gail, they could be described as rogue roos by many of the local farmers and holiday makers trying to dodge them! I have lived in the beautiful High Country near Mansfield, Victoria for the last six years. My husband and I are on 25 acres and at the moment have one kangaroo per acre! Gippsland is a beautiful part of the world too. Feel free to check out my blog about my escape to the country and life on 25 Acres!
https://wordpress.com/home/kiangablog.com
I would be interested to know what brings you to Substack too.
I like this Jeff. And it does have a poetic rhythm at least half of it. I love your realness. Otherwise, if not real, it is not for public consumption (imho). Or rather...it has little values for others if not authentic. Big hugs.
Thank you, Emily.
Whimsical
I have mine, 4 of them, hanging at the edge of the patio plus one in the kitchen window. They are not in full sun and are at least 12 feet apart. They seem to like to have a space to light nearby… so they can watch the feeders and zoom in ! They like to light on my wind chimes nearby and they hide in the pampas grass nearby! They are big bullies at the beginning of their visit but become more cooperative as the crowd grows. They do like to return to the same places each year -so if you are living in an area that is newly inhabited by humans it may take a summer or two. Be patient, they will come! I don’t purchase prepared nectar. I make my own - 4 parts water to 1 part sugar, it’s my mother’s secret recipe :-). Just refill at least weekly. I premix and keep it cold in the fridge … I do actually yell out loud “cold one” when I refill one. Late this summer and early-mid fall they will start their migration back to Mexico.. so if you haven’t attracted any by then you’ll have a chance to catch a few migrating crowds !
Got it! Ours is in full sun, and I think we'll move it and just keep being patient.
A day in my life consists of beginning with my rituals as I sit outside in my swing overlooking the water. Alone for awhile in thought and refleciton of the summer sun all around me. A new puppy that is difficult to train. Grandsons that come and go by bike from their home in the next town. I marvel at Mother Nature’s beauty and wish I could share this moment of peace...
Beautiful. I think you just did.
Thank you. You inspire me.