That beautiful this morning. The Japanese magnolia shining ruby in the sun, its blooms opening slowly, shaded as they are by the live oaks.
I am so very, very fortunate to live where I live with the air so pure and and the light so pouring-down in the mornings, blessing everything I see in its glory, shining away the night's mists so that it rises up to the clear blue sky, drifts away above the moss-draped branches of the oaks.
I feel calm this morning. I feel okay.
This, like the light, like the air, like the beginning blossoms of spring, feels like a miracle.
My husband took me out for dinner last night. I was so tired when he got home. I had had a nap but it did nothing to dent my exhaustion. I think my body is going to take some time to heal from the self-produced chemicals which have been flooding it for months. I had picked some arugula, was going to make a salad. "Let's go out," he said.
"Okay," I said.
And we did.
It wasn't a great dinner but it was fine and when we got home he decided to cut his hair. He's been growing it out for some time now and growing it out was a thing he'd wanted to do for a long time. He's always had this fantasy of himself as an older man with long white hair and so it's been months since he cut it but it was bugging him and him talking about it was bugging me, to be frank.
And so last night he took the clippers into his bathroom and cut it all off. I helped him with the last parts which I hate doing because I suck at it and I always sing the same whiny song which goes like this: "I do not understand why you won't just go and pay someone to do this properly," and he sings back, "I don't know."
But I know- he hates to pay someone to do something he can do himself and I didn't fuck up my part too badly and now he looks more like his old self although he did ask me if I could knit him a hat real quick because his head was going to be cold.
Here he was last Saturday night when we ate dinner down at Spring Creek.
He is so handsome, short hair or long.
Owen told me yesterday that my hair is too long and that I should cut it. Too bad, little man. Not going to happen right now. He's such a funny little guy. While his mama was trying on things at Ross, he and I spent some time in the shoe section. He kept pulling down outrageous shoes for me to try on. Shoes with heels. Shoes with zippers up the back. Shoes with heels AND zippers up the back. Hooker shoes, to be quite frank.
"What do you think?" I'd ask him, tottering on the heels.
"You should buy them!" he'd say. "They look good! You want them for your birthday?"
Needless to say, I did not buy any, nor do I want them for my birthday but it was fun, trying on shoes that my four-year old grandson deemed worthy of consideration.
Well, speaking of boys, they are coming early this afternoon and I have got to do a little organizing and cleaning. I can't think of the entire picture, but must start small. Perhaps my bathroom which is a chaotic mess which makes me unhappy every time I walk in there.
It is a beautiful day in Lloyd and I am feeling okay and I am one of the luckiest women in the world and I know it and I can feel it, even as I can feel my brain rewiring itself, even as I can feel my body relax a little, even as I can feel the sun on my head as I go to let the chickens out, even as I can feel the warming of the earth, the rightness of the seasons turning, the days lengthening, ever-changing, ever-the-same, and it is good.