friendship · humor · life lessons · love

Home Again

“The mountains are calling and I must go” — John Muir

I could have stayed at our mountain home for far longer than we did.  Air that was breathlessly cold; sky and ground the same color white, blurring the boundary that keeps one anchored to the ground; good friends (who fortunately arrived after the new heat pump was installed) – and Sir Bogey.

The Sirs have been to the house before, but this time Bogey got to be the ‘special’ fur-kid who made the trip.  He loves being part of the pack, but he really delighted in being the center of attention.  Four adults catering to his every whim, four laps to test, four sets of ears listening to his lengthy diatribes and demands.  He’s quite the puppy, with far more opinions and expectations than any puppy I have ever had.  Needless to say, he’s training us very well.

At night, he would see his reflection in every window and was desperate to have the interloper evicted from the premises.  Same thing with the floor length mirror.  He huffed and lunged, banging his head repeatedly.  Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but arguably one of the cutest.  When he is with the other Sirs he is far bolder than when he’s on his own.  Every morning he would venture outside, greeting the frozen air with a lot of bluster and bark – from behind my legs.  He was more intrepid when the sun rose,  jumping through the snow with abandon, skidding around the driveway as if his paws were made of fiberglass.  Bogey maximizing his moments – playing with abandon, sleeping heavily, eating with enthusiasm and delighting in tummy rubs.  He’s impulsive and demands the most from the world around him, for last he looked, it’s totally his world.  As I said, he’s training us well.  And having his perspective while we snuggled into the days made any sense of the serious impossible.  We even played a new game, sort of like ‘Marco Polo‘ but calling “Bogey” or “is the puppy with you?” instead.

Icing delayed our departure, and I was ambivalent when the salt truck arrived.  Home is wherever love is, so arguably it travels.  But it’s the peace of the mountains, the demand that you scale back your worries and amp up the volume on appreciating the smallest of delights.  Feeling snowflakes on your face, playing with abandon, talking with friends, sleeping heavily and treading lightly on the earth.  Bogey is teaching us well.  The mountains are the perfect backdrop for lessons such as these.

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discretion · friendship · inspiration · life lessons · love · mindfulness

Bounty

‘Make much of something small.

The pouring-out of tea,

a drying flower’s shadow on the wall

from last week’s bouquet.

A fact; it isn’t summer anymore.

Say that December sun

is pitiless, but crystalline

and strikes like a bell.

Say it plays colours like a glockenspiel.

It shows the dust as well,

the elemental sediment

your broom has missed,

and lights upon each grain of sugar spilled

upon the tablecloth, beside

pistachio shells, peel of a clementine.

Slippers and morning paper on the floor,

and wafts of heat from rumbling radiators,

can this be all?  No look – here comes the cat,

with one ear inside out.

Make much of something small.  — ‘Bounty’ by Robyn Sarah

I receive “The Writer’s Almanac” in my inbox each morning and today’s poem seemed so appropriate as so many enjoy the holidays of the season.  I wish you love and hope and laughter, really good hugs, friends and family to share in your delight (and the food – I heard a rumor that if you share it, the calories are also divided amongst all who partake).  I wish you time to marvel at the small moments that should never go unnoticed, for they hold truths far larger than we can imagine.  I hope you get some drool-y naps in there too, awakened by the sounds of quiet commiseration between loved ones.  And of course, I hope you receive all that you wish for, and wish for all that you have.

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