I woke to the spill of vibrant colors through my window and the sweet smell of my eight-month-old’s head damp with sweat and curls as he adjusts to the rise in temperature brought by impending summer. I knew I should rest longer, but the outside world was calling to me. I snuck my arm from under my sleeping babe and slipped out of bed. It’s a rare occasion I rise without him. I gently nudged my husband to awareness and asked him to take my place near our infant.
I crept down the stairs trying not to make a sound. I welcomed the stillness. I normally would brush my teeth and begin my day, but I wanted to seize this opportunity of being with myself. Morning breath could wait, I thought. I put my bare feet into the rubber boots waiting by the door. I knew I was breaking a rule I teach my children of always wearing socks with their boots and the cold hard plastic encasing my skin reminded me. Any discomfort suffered would be temporary and worthwhile. I was not going to risk waking our home digging in drawers. These moments are in short supply and precious.
I quietly stepped outside. I quickly became part of a different world. One that was awake and full of life. The apple blossoms stood open and the hidden buzzing told me the bumbles knew this. The plants were having their morning drink of dew, and the birds reminded me that they’ve known the secrets of sunrise well before my existence. I stood for a moment taking it all in. I breathed deeper. I felt myself exhale a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. A breath I’d been holding for some time. As I began to walk through the garden, the sound of my boots on the stones seemed an anomaly. As I prepared to unlatch the gate and step beyond the fence, I took in all the beauty we have been hard at work creating and the life we are returning to this place. I watched robins pluck worms and grasses from the earth that has touched my hands. They perched on the trellises my husband secured for our future grapes and hardy kiwi to vine. A memory of the hummingbirds I’d seen earlier this week flashed to mind. They frequent the apple trees and I’ve seen more of them in the last days than I have in my lifetime.
We can do this, I thought. We are doing this. We will create beauty and abundance both we and the natural world can benefit from. I remembered the desolate mowed grass that once was where our garden is. The vast difference and invitation of life already apparent in it’s transformation. There is good to be found, we just had to dream it, believe it, and create it. Though far from finished, I felt inner satisfaction knowing my purpose in this world. I will leave it better than I found it.
I continued on to the east, where I could see the colors had begun to fade, but humidity hung in the air creating a mystical display. The old barns, though sunken and decomposing with time, held beauty in their aged wood and ancient structures. I will be sad to see them go, despite the dangers they hold. There’s something about a building that’s seen humans through generations that’s hard to let go of. When they do go down, they’ll be taking history with them. Sometimes I like to imagine what life had been like when they were first constructed. The hope of the farmer investing his livelihood in their placement. What had his life been like? What if he could see them now? What hardships did he face?
The patch of dandelions caught my gaze. They covered a space I knew to once had been a garden. They’re hard at work in repairing the malnourished soil. Some have begun to go to seed and white cotton dotted the yellow terrain. I knelt down and looked at them. Really looked at them. I could see the stock of each seed, the holes left from those who’ve made their descent. I could see the circle of life in a single patch. These dandelions would leave the world better than they found it. They came in a time of need, provided habitat, beauty, food, medicine, and amended the soil all the while. I was impressed by them. I hope I can match up to the mark they leave behind. My mind flashed to the quote currently written on the whiteboard in our kitchen.
“Be the change you want to see.”
Ghandi
I rose and took in the landscape; the mist hung heavily around me. I noticed the return of spider webs stringing the flowers, sprinkled with condensation. The sounds of the morning animals thickened as I walked the path towards where prairie meets the forest; the point of highest diversity. My legs swished in the tall wet grass. I paused again, just to quiet myself and hear the nature around me. I allowed a feeling of peace to wash the tension from my neck and shoulders. I relaxed. I felt at ease, something I haven’t felt in some time.
We all need moments like this; moments of peace and clarity. An emotional release. The realization that despite standing alone on a path, we are not truly alone. The earth reminded me of this. We are a part of a whole; interconnected in a complex, yet simple web. My hope is that you too are able to find a moment of quiet reflection; a break from the noise. Take the time to re-solidify your purpose or contemplate it non-the-less. How will you leave this world better than you found it?
Stay safe. Stay sane. Find a moment of quiet reflection.