“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

7.20.2010

at first, stillness

the skies are not blue out there today, they are gray and hot and full of rain, and did i mention they are hot? it is humid out there, it is sticky and yucky and it is texas nearing august without a doubt. this cell phone shot is from last week, still at work, reading with/to lily cat until she became quite distracted with that one little bird up there on one of the power lines - way up there; you have to look pretty hard, but it's there. paying her no mind.

outside the door at home this morning there is no movement. no wind, not a breeze, not a person, not even the sunlight moving in stripes across the lawn. nada. it is just green out there.

we spent the weekend in wimberley, texas, changed all our plans, skipped austin, didn't even bother with san antonio, and you will understand why when i tell the tale; on the drive back home, somewhere past rockdale on hwy. 79, i knew we'd entered ne texas - the trees on the side of the road were suddenly taller, the horizon suddenly hidden and mounds and mounds of wild honeysuckle, 2 and 3 times my height, covered fences and those aforementioned trees and the outdoors just got green out there on the road. in small towns there were pockets of color, crepe myrtles blooming, all dark pink, not another color in sight until we got here. this morning not even that, although just a moment ago the sun appeared and yes, there again, and the greens turn yellow-green and now there are yellow stripes through AC's backyard, laying out there quietly across the street. It is the only movement, and it comes and goes now, undecided about today. there is no birdsong, there are no birds, no squirrels, and that bodes rain.

but what power these words hold. if you type it, they will come. cardinals flying by the door and up into the hackberry tree, and suddenly red dragonflies. mockingbirds and a breeze along the creek. a brighter slice of sunlight. kenny chesney on tv singing that's the good stuff, and if i turn him off, i hear the birds singing. that is the good stuff.

and now, the sound of a lawn mower, it is almost 8 o'clock, a race against the heat and humidity. the grass grows faster than you can mow, perversely reminding me of arizona, where, if you still had a clothes line - i miss clothes lines although jeans dried so hard - you could almost begin to take down the clothes you'd hung as soon as you'd finished; it was that dry.

home.
the small moments.
i thought i would hate them
after such a wonderful weekend away,
but i don't.
i know them so well.
too well.

the change i crave must start inside,
both house and soul.
one and the same.

my week is full,
every moment scheduled,
but then.
nada.
no movement pencilled in on the calendar.
i will begin then.

i see some blue up there in the sky.

11 comments:

  1. ...the change I crave must start inside...
    I am in a version of that also.
    It is such a potent space, filled with excitement, hope, trepidation, butterflies-in-tummy of the good kind. But those butterflies will keep your attention!
    I am so glad you had such a beautiful weekend!
    ~~And now we enter August...`:-}

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  2. Cellphone photo? Seems to good to be from a cell phone. Texas heat is so heavy. James and I talked about moving to Austin a few years ago but I knew I'd just melt away after a month. Beautiful words in this post. As always.

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  3. the small moments, they make up our lives, and when you learn to savor them, there is peace.
    I think you began with this post, just in this small moment that only seemed small. It grew really large as you wrote it.

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  4. what a beautiful photo taken with your phone! and yes...change within. i always get the itch to travel, but then realize it was home i was missing all along.

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  5. changing plans is often as potent as change itself....and often more important.

    oh kenny.....how do you get in those jeans of yours ?
    i could stare into those hat shaded eyes of yours for at least a day, though....if you let me.

    {i've seen him twice in concert....i can talk like that}

    LOL

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  6. you
    did
    it !
    :::
    wimberly
    is an
    all time
    favorite
    ::
    you describe in such
    rhythm and flow debi

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  7. I love the small moments. And I especially love when the close of a busy weeks comes...I can just be still...until I decide to move.

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  8. Hello again,
    you may or may not remember me from Susannah's class last year. I saw you as a guest writer on one of the blogs I follow...and I just became a new follower. I love the way you write...I do..I do...I believe i was known as playinwhaley.
    Come on over and visit...
    blessings,friend,
    glenda

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  9. Isn't it funny how we make plans, but our soul has other intentions for us? We are where we should be, learning the things it's time to learn (or failing to learn them and getting smacked upside the head later).

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  10. I have a week of nada coming soon, too. We leave Oregon tomorrow. Home. Sweet, sweet home. My heart turns toward it in a way it never has before when leaving this green and beautiful place. I long to be there. In the damp heat, with the big skies, in my own bed, with my own comforts nearby. home

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  11. I hope for some of that nada nothingness in August. Lots of reading in favourite outdoor hideaways next to oceans and trees...places where I am usually so distracted by the place, I don't get a whole lot of reading done. But that's ok..it's the nothingness I am after. I'm glad you are able to soak it in as well. Isn't that what summer is for, afterall?

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come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .