220619 sun islands storm

 June fifteen

tiny islands, small worlds.

*****

mindless,

energized by sun and green,

i am without word or thought, walking as the dog walks, following the paths he finds.

*****

Rock and I went along the big stream, down the hill. The undergrowth is sparse just here, not sure why, probably to do with age of trees and sunlight, but it allowed us to walk off-trail by the stream.

Another island.

We stopped to breathe in a small naked area where there was access to the stream and stones to cross. 

*****

Here, in the lower meadow, is a place for a witches' tryst. Too small for a coven meeting, but for two or three gathered together. "When shall we three meet again?" (From the play)  It is a small, sheltered clearing like empty hands held out.

The cow pond has a little peninsula reaching into it. It intrigues me. Childlike, I imagine magic and undiscovered creatures live there. 

I remember how, last June, I was enchanted as if by a spell, during the summer solstice, cast by the sun and the bright life. * (asterisk to last year's post, link below)

*****

I have difficulty going to sleep, often, because my mind runs on past mistakes and future worries. Last night an owl's voice brought me to the present. I listened for his call, and for other night sounds. I set aside past and future, along with worry and regret, and thought about what was there at that moment: a warm bed, safety, K nearby safe and sound, Rocky at my feet. Regret of anything past was wasted unless I was working on a future action where some learning might apply; worry about the future was pointless, unless I was, again, taking action IN that future. So I lay in the present (in the gift), and was soon fast asleep.

*****

I am asking my son-in-law to help me with my blog, because he knows about this stuff and I am a bit of a newbie. An Anne Tyler moment: one's "family" and the people that come into one's circle are accidents of being human. You marry or join up with someone and they bring on board the people around them. And then they are in your life, to help or be helped. Or not. But you have to choose and each choice will echo across your social circle, your family.  I call it an Anne Tyler moment, because her books seem to be about how our "family" is the people around us: they may be actual blood or in-law relatives or friends but they move in with you sometimes physically, sometimes just by social connection and whether you like them or not, you adopt them because that is what humans do. My son-in-law, Iz, whether he likes it or not, has adopted Elf's family, and they him. We can choose how much we take on in these relationships, but sometimes I feel as if Tyler is saying that you just do come to love your family, and do for them as you can. *

*****

Thursday the sixteenth

I drove to Montreal on Thursday with my daughter, Rain, the baby, and her dog, Handsome, to take the dog to the vet. He has a tumour in his leg. There are so many factors to consider in deciding what should be done. There are tests and scans before any plan can be made. I was up at 5:30 to be at her house by 6:30. I had to leave Rocky at home because of having to take Handsome. (Rocky was fine at home with K. They went for a walk and he did not try and leave to find me or run away. The dog that is.) 

We were more than two hours getting to Montreal, through rush hour. Because the vet had to fit Handsome in for a scan, we waited, as it happened, all day, before everything was done. There was a nice strip of grass with a few treees and several benches which made waiting outside very nice. I had a blanket in the car that we put down for the baby - he sits well but is not yet crawling. We had two meals at the diner across the street. It was mostly empty. The waiter was delightfully friendly, and so kind. 

Late in the afternoon a storm that had been brewing all day blew up. The sky was black in the distance and lightning flashed. Then there was a downpour; in parts of the city they had hail, and the wind blew fiercely. The rain stopped long enough for us to get to the car and, mid-rush hour, we headed for home. We ran into rain, and streaks of lightning crossed the sky as we drove south. This place is so much my "home" that coming off highway 10 onto 243 gives me that lift of joy one feels on the final turn onto the cottage road, or onto one's home street. We were safely at the end of a long and arduous day, Rain and I, baby and dog.

The storm while we were at the vet.

The vet hospital was on a sort of shunt road that took people, mostly truck-drivers, around a traffic glitch, and all day long cars and trucks came around the corner past us.

What had been a scary challenge the day before became a revelation to me the next day. I accomplished the trip as easily as I would have a year ago, before I was ill. My energy, positivity, and my ability to drive and navigate in a city rush-hour highway system stood the test. My fear, since being ill, that I was now old and frail and less competent, was assuaged. I feel competent and able again.

A rainbow shone ahead of us in the sky and as we took the last road to Rain's we came upon a deer and her tiny fawn by the road. We watched them bound across the field and disappear into the trees.

The weather was heavy and raining through Friday.

I have talked about pathetic fallacy before. I love its use in literature, but more than that I love how it happens in life. The storm in Montreal very much reflected the storm in Rain's struggle with her dog's health, the physical and mental struggle of going all the way to Montreal and the emotional struggle of deciding what to do for Handsome, after weighing all the factors affecting the outcome. It reflected my day too, both in my connection to Rain and in my own journey (haha) to my self. 

This morning I rose at five and have been to the second turning twice already, a long walk and lots of time for reflection and meditation. The sun rose in an almost cloudless sky and a wind is blowing the hillside dry after two days of rain. I have reached a place of equalibrium, where I feel like I can rest and just be. It does indeed feel like coming out from under a cloud, I couldn't see myself or my path any more than I could see the hills to the south. We can see the hills today.

Mumma Yaga

* 210620 Revel: https://mummayaga.blogspot.com/2021/06/210620-revel.html

* See 220620 mummayaga, coming soon.

* And thank you, to Iz. 

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