The Mircle Of Acceptance, Even Yes, Of The Very, Very Good

Even though it is definitely chilly, there is a very strong feeling of spring here. Could have something to do with the fact that things are blooming, just as they might in...spring.
Those are Japanese Magnolia, above, and they, like the camellias, are early bloomers.
And the redbud, which also chooses to open in flower before any real hint of heat arrives but which is a definite sign that it will.
I have seen the redbud blooming in other places in the area, but just noticed that my very own trees are blooming as well.

They are not a showy flower, the redbud, but more of a mist of color, if viewed from a distance.

I noticed that the dogwoods are even knobbing up

and that the trillium is opening. I love the trillium. It looks ancient and otherworldly to me.

I am so grateful that a former owner planted them here. The chickens scratch around them daily but leave them alone.

I woke up this morning, this chilly pre-spring morning, still achy and feeling slightly feverish, worrying about the play, but still with an overall feeling of okay-ness.
Jessie and Vergil were asleep upstairs, the house was quiet, Mr. Moon already gone to the gym and then to work, and birds were whistling outside my window a song which brought the word "spring" to my mind. I do not know my bird calls but after fifty-seven years on this planet, my mind associates certain bird songs with certain seasons, just as my skin can register the humidity and the simple feeling of the same. I cannot explain it. It just is, as I am sure many of you know and can recognize exactly what I am talking about. It's not unlike a good midwife who can walk into a room where a woman labors and know exactly where she is in her progress without having to check her dilation.

The calender may say winter, but the air and dirt and birds and bushes say spring. Or at least- spring-soon. That train has very much left the station.

And now Jessie and Vergil have eaten their breakfast and gone to town and again, I am alone and the house is quiet and I so grateful for this day of nothing-much-to-be-done in front of me. I have beans simmering on the stove for soup and I am going to warm my aching body in a tub of hot water as they cook. I am surrendering today. To my body's need for rest and for my mind's need for ease. I am making the soup as a therapy, which is one that works for me. The eating of it will not be anywhere nearly as restorative to me as the making of it. I have greens to go in it and tomatoes and deer sausage and a little bit of left0ver chicken. Garlic, onions, carrots, celery- they go without saying. And some sweet potatoes. I may grate some fresh ginger into it and I may not. We shall see.

There are years where spring comes before it is "time" and yet of course, whenever it comes is the right time. We can do nothing to change that and can only respond to it as do the birds and the dogwoods, the redbud and the buckeye. There are days when it would seem that there is much to do (I was invited to go to town to be with Jessie and Lily and Owen and Hank) but the wisest thing to do is to simply accept the fact that the body needs rest and to do that and also, to rest happy in the knowledge that my children are all in the same geographical area, the same one I am in, and to be glad that they are getting to spend time together. There is great peace in that for me. I do not have to participate in it to feel pleasure in it.

I can do nothing to change this play and its repetitive dialogue and subsequent dragging but I can study my lines and do my best with the part I have in it. I am only one of four in the play, I am not the director, nor did I write it. We will and have all done our best and it will get better as time passes and even in its imperfection, there were moments of magic in it for me last night and I readily acknowledge that.

You know, spring is a miracle whenever it happens and so are days when nothing much is required of me. I intend to take this miracle for what it is, even with the small aches and worries.

My children are all in town, my daughter Lily is beautiful and blooming with new life about to be born, I have spoken to my husband this morning and we love each other, there are beans simmering on the stove and chickens scratching around the emerging trillium and all of this fills me with great peace and gratefulness. The rest I will let go of as I truly cannot change much of any of it. I refuse to be frantic today. I refuse to obsess about the small things which are not perfect.

I sound like a walking serenity prayer, don't I? Well, so be it. For today that's plenty for me. It is quite obvious to me that today is a day to restoreth my soul.

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon