January 16, 2008
Winter refuses to ease its grip on Sanctuary, and looking outdoors today is viewing it as though I am sitting in the center of a snow globe. The flakes are large and many, and the fire feels very fine. There are more birds, rabbits, and squirrels at the feeders than ever, making it a good stopping off place for the hawk which comes through frequently enough to keep all perspective lunches and dinners flitting nervously into the dense cover nearby.
A good place for me to meditate is at the ironing board, and yesterday was a good day to iron the post-laundry table napkins that had accumulated over the past months. My mother hemmed many of the huge white damask ones, and the somewhat uneven stitches around the edges always bring back memories of her, a tomboy to the bone, riding horses and working in the fields and gardens. She likely sat through winter evenings hemming and embroidering and stitching and sewing the items which would be folded into her cedar hope chest prior to marriage. Most of these spent a lifetime languishing in dresser drawers, awaiting special events, as they were being saved for “good”. She didn’t use them more than once or twice a year, and now I have them, nearly new, and present at many of our dinners with friends and family.
January flies on, and I continue to feel reasonably well without any therapy at all. Perhaps the past several years will become an historic episode in my life, and perhaps I will stay at this place in blood health for another decade. I would not mind being written up as someone who did that! Since I cannot fathom the mysteries of life, or death, or the mind of God, I give thanks for each new morning and delight in each new day always looking forward to the next and the next. . . and the next . . .
Postscript: The center photo is of my mother Agnes when she was about eighteen.