I stood on my back deck last night, leaning against the house and watching my friend get out of her Subaru with a bowl of meatballs. My daughters had strung white Christmas lights all over the barn’s front side that afternoon. The white clapboard had that classic New England winter festiveness, complete with a red-bow wreath someone gave my daughter.
I stood there thinking how in my twenties I would have believed I would live here forever. Forever was part of my twenties’ worldview. In my forties – like just about everyone else I know – the erosion of loss (marriage, business, house) has altered the landscape of my worldview. I stood there thinking that, at some point (God willing, many years hence), someone will live here, and maybe paint that barn cotton-candy pink. For that moment, though, in early December, I leaned against the solid house in the cool afternoon, thinking how fine it was to have guests for dinner and my daughters inside, baking cookies.
I don’t knit, but when I watch someone who does, I think that they must have found some of the same inner peace that I discovered during my expeditions (for example, the South Pole)…. A great many of us have a desire to return to something basic, authentic, and to find peace, to experience a small, quiet alternative to the din….The results that you achieve – firewood to warm you, a sweater you have poured yourself into – are not things that can be printed out. The fruit of your labor is a tangible product. A result that you and others can enjoy over a period of time.
– Erling Kagge, Silence in the Age of Noise
4 thoughts on “Bit of Breeze”
I know that feeling. Still, in the fourties here too, one forever remains. Forever belonging to the woods. In weddings they say, until death do us apart (I never understood that one). There is no doing apart with the spirit of the woods. And that feeling defies any magic.
Hello to your end of the world. Thanks for writing today. It’s an oddly magical day in Vermont, feeling more like spring and mud season with an unusual burst of sunlight in our generally gray December.
I like your last few posts a lot… very peaceful. And where’d you get your essay accepted?? (Congrats!)
Thanks, Ben. Parent Co.