I like to watch the trees
do their slow strip tease
and cast their colorful garments
in a heap at their feet.

to my colorful and self-innovative niece - 

yeah, you know who you are. (smile)

The Lightening

My morning routine is based around clock time.

But the experience is a pure reflection of the time of year.

RIGHT NOW.

I arise in the dark and make my way up the stairs to the attic. Yoga is my first and most perfect wake-up, slowly moving muscles that have slept and feeding them with deep breaths, oxygen their source of energy.

I am in the attic, carpeted and finished many years ago as a bedroom for our two little girls. Later as the “penthouse” for one or another teen-aged kid. Now it serves as the playroom/bedroom for visiting grandchildren. In other words, a place of positive, good vibes.

But at 5:30 in the morning it is mine. When my genius husband put on a new roof many, many years ago, he added six skylights. Two face east, four face south, bringing in the  most light possible.

RIGHT NOW.

The lightening happens during my yoga practice through the skylights I stretch under. I love witnessing that magic that slowly changes dimness ... to shapes ... to the faintest colors ... to the bright hello of a new day. 

And as I walk outside for part II of my morning routine, I am often treated to a one of a kind sunrise made just for that day ... maybe an orange glow along the line between earth and sky ... or a full blown pattern of pinks across the clouds. A show that costs nothing but to look up.

And in six months my “RIGHT NOW” will repeat itself. But in between ... well, I’ll save that for another day. 

If I had my druthers ... my clock would have a little hand that moves with the seasons ... a big hand that traces the phases of the moon ... and a seconds hand marking each sunrise and sunset. 

“You come from good stock.”

That is what my mom said to me when I was expecting my first child. She said it in that way she had which was not to be questioned. She meant it to be reassuring to me ... that I came from a long line of successful births and healthy babies. Actually that simple statement was reassuring. 

The other day I found myself saying those same words to my two daughters, one who was at the threshold of giving birth to her first, and the other one who may one day be standing at that same threshold.

We had taken the day to grab a much enjoyed winter ritual of looking for eagles. The nearby Fox River has amazingly become a habitat during the coldest months for our nation’s revered symbol. 

The day was bright and just cold enough to be comfortable for our walk (or our waddle as the case may be -- sorry, Molly!). Though our goal was to see eagles, it became less important than the time together to talk and walk and take in the sights. Our togetherness was the heart of the morning. Just me and my girls - how often does that happen these days?

We had turned around on the path and were heading back. We came to the bridge across the river and paused there. I took that moment to tell Maggie and Molly what my mom had said to me. “You come from good stock.” They understood, and it felt like a good moment. It was right then we saw the first eagle. Then another. And another.

The wind had picked up and I believe that provided the lift for those large, magnificent raptors. We were enthralled and grateful and intrigued by their graceful and fluid movements. 

It wasn’t until later that I made a connection. My mom was also very fond of eagles. Her “decor” was riddled with eagles. Maybe not the kind that grace the sky. But rather a reflection of the patriotism that ingrained her spirit. She lived through World War II while in her early 20’s. 

I like to think that my mom was there with us standing on the bridge watching the eagles soar. And witnessing the words she gave her daughter once upon a time ... in turn be passed on to her daughter’s daughters.

Maybe the eagles were not the only ones to soar that morning.

Crossing Paths

It is time to write about this because I don’t want to lose this experience to the cobwebs I call my mind these days.

There was a stranger. I said three words to him in a fleeting instance. But the message resonated with him. And he returned the favor. That kindred moment left me changed.

............................

In celebration of Mother’s Day, I wanted to challenge myself to an extra long hike. Maggie, my lovely daughter and faithful co-hiker and I set off on that glorious May morning. We started at the northern most boundary of North Blackwell, leaving from Gary’s Mill Road and continued through open land, past McKee Marsh, as still as a mirrored table top, then crossed Mack Road into South Blackwell, passing through fields and old growth woods. It was just right, with good smells and lots of birds and blooms to notice.

The stranger came jogging towards us when we were maybe halfway to our goal. The usual nod and a smile were given that we people on the path always share. Because we shared more than the path, we shared the good feeling of just being there.

The stranger had his goal and we had ours. As we neared the parking lot along Butterfield Road at the end of our two hour walk, he came up behind us, still jogging. I said the three words in the one second when he was at our heels, just loud enough for him to hear. And he was gone. 

I try to make a point of telling someone what I notice about them, especially if it is positive. We all need to hear that if it is true. We all need to speak it if it is true. This was such a case.

At last Maggie and I reached the car we had left waiting for us, tired but grinning. The stranger was in the parking lot too. He approached me and said very little. He said that my words gave him encouragement at a time when he needed it and wanted me to know that. He did not need to say this, but he did. It warmed me in a way that has stuck with me. 

............................

To satisfy your curiosity, I will tell you what my three words were, although I should warn you, it may end up detracting from the story. Think about it before reading:

                                                                                                                                                                                  I admire you.