*Entirely optional viewing and listening whilst reading above post.
Sometimes I find that I've been viewing my life with blinders on. You know, grass-is-always-greener syndrome. Pining for life in a new location, feeling restless with my current set-up. While that often strikes during the winter, when we're sequestered at home for long periods (and especially this past winter, which was particularly rough in the snowed-in department), it can happen at other times, too.
And then those moments come when everything is illuminated, to borrow from Jonathan Safran Foer. When you see things for what they really are, not what you imagine them to be. That happened to Glenn yesterday when I was busy slinging cupcakes at Short Street. A heavy rain had shadowed the property for several hours. As it began to clear out, he stepped outside and saw just how truly gorgeous this place we get to call home really is.
Pictured above are some highlights. The Mimosa tree at bottom graces our back porch. There's also one standing silent sentry beside the chicken coop, emitting the most transcendent fragrance imaginable. Above it is a winged friend found taking a load off beside our front entry steps. In the middle you see the path I take each morning, generally a few minutes after 7:00 a.m., to the chicken coop, passing the bee hives and fenced-in kitchen garden on my left and the wineberry thicket on my right as I go.
That big soaking tub is where we're hoping Nugget makes his debut. The forest outside (we live next to a 350 acre nature preserve; you can view it as you soak) should be cloaked in vibrant fall colors then, which takes this place from stellar viewing to downright swoon-worthy. Above that is, to the left, our two apple trees (one of which just shed its June fruit drop), down below is the grape vine, and beyond it, the bamboo grove and maple tree, one of the only flat areas on our property and a potential site for a future playground (it feels so weird to think that we'll soon be the type of people who own things like playgrounds-oh, and babies!).
So, when we get cantankerous and restless, it's good to look back on images like these and reflect on just how fortunate we are to live in this paradise (one of just a small, small handful of temperate rain forests in North America; the others are on the coastal regions of the Pacific Northwest, the other place my heart sings for the most). Our house, in the middle of the woods, is a refuge, a place of solace, and an absolute gift.