Sunday, February 16, 2014

Respite

My outdoor retreat in disguise.
The sun is playing peek-a-boo among the clouds, making shadows race across the snow. While I was away there were two large snowfalls here and the cottage is knee-deep. Great long icicles hang from the eaves of the main house. Heaps and piles of snow line the drive and the pathway to the door. The mound on my outdoor table measured 23 inches.

The birds are few and the ones that come to the feeder are hungry and stay, hovering, fighting off newcomers. The feeder was emptied while I was gone and though it's full now, the regulars have found other places to eat.

Next week will find me minding the toddlers again until Friday when I return to my son's and the final week of his wife's absence. She's been studying yoga in India for the month of February, hoping to bring what she's learned back to her own studio. Meanwhile, my oldest son is journeying through Southeast Asia. It's been a month of transition, of travel, of reviving old skills. I've loved every minute of my time with my younger son and his two children.

The cottage is quiet. The refrigerator hums, the clock ticks. The sun slips in through the window and naps on the floor. The TV is silent, staring blankly at the opposite wall. Now and then I turn it on for the news and to watch Downton Abbey on a Sunday evening. The rest of the time the silence soothes me. I watch the sun rise and the sun set, putter at my daily tasks, spend as much time as possible out of doors and snuggle under my down quilt when the day is done. It's an introvert's dream life.

A friend once told me I was a tree in another life. I believe him.



11 comments:

Brian Miller said...

enjoy that soothing silence....
our snow is starting to melt...making a mess with ice....refreezing...

what cool journeys your family is on right now....as are you with the little ones....

Barbara Shallue said...

This sounds like heaven to me. I crave silence and solitude. I also crave people and conversation after too much of it, of course. There has to be a proper dose of each. I'm glad you got such a good dose of this kind of peace. Hope you enjoy the rest of your week!

Reya Mellicker said...

You are such a beautiful writer, Pauline. The sunlight does nap on the floor on a quiet afternoon, it surely does.

Cozy!

A Cuban In London said...

What a beautiful post. Your photos are also beautiful. That stay in India sounds like heaven, too.

Greetings from London.

Judith said...

A tree? Perhaps.
I think a bird.
Love the new cover photo, even if I don't love the white stuff so much in actuality.

Gary said...

You so beautifully describe the feeling of winter. We have been hit so hard that sometimes I need to remind myself of the beauty instead of seeing it as a deterrent to my daily life.

The icicles hanging from the eaves here are incredible. I can get lost watching them dripping - building and melting all at once.

Michael Manning said...

Images captured so nicely in words! I enjoyed this post!!

Pauline said...

Brian - I wouldn't change a thing, except maybe the freezing rain that's falling now and that I have to drive in this afternoon.

Barbara - I wouldn't mind not being in the people loop for ages at a time; I much prefer silence and solitude. My balance is different than yours :)

Reya - thank you. And yes, my cottage is very cozy!

Cuban in London - the India trip has been exciting for my DIL and challenging for her children and husband since they are missing her dreadfully. She'll have lots to share when she returns home!

J- I am more tree than bird, despite my recent travels. My roots are deep at home and my head is often in the clouds ;)

Gary - I've never minded winter weather except when I am forced to drive in it. I'll be experiencing that this afternoon when I must fetch my granddaughter from school on icy roads. Freezing rain is the one winter weather system I don't like.

Michael - thanks for stopping by :)

goatman said...



Anechoic snow; what a treat.

Hilary said...

If trees could write, it would surely be as you do. I believe in your past life.. perhaps future life, also.

Pauline said...

Goatman, I had to look that up. Thanks for a new word!

Hilary - thank you! I seem to have a special affinity for trees. Perhaps I was a dryad in another lifetime.