Sunday, June 13, 2010
Right next to this desk there is a window. When I work during the day, I get out the old ThinkPad (Lenovo, just a few months after the IBM sellout), open the curtain about a foot and a half, and get down to the tasks at hand.There’s the yard’s north gate, the old concrete pathway, a couple of Dogwood bushes, the street and my neighbor’s poplar right within view.
It’s been raining off and on for a few days now, and the grass is high with dark, rain-laden clouds over the mountains to the east. We live here in Spring City year-round at this point in our lives. Our kids are pretty young, and without family or many like minds nearby, life can feel shabby and desperate at times.We are very happy together as a nuclear family, so don’t get me wrong; but with three teens in the house and more climbing their way up the old ladder, plus a couple of formerly artsy and idealist parents pining away in a hamster wheel of providing, teaching, cooking, and maintenance, there are personalities seeking a more excellent way ’round this wee house on the high desert.
Sometimes parting a curtain will give an old vista fresh flavor by virtue of a new frame. Gratitude for the window, light and fresh air is a part of the dance, too, and maybe someday, all of this exercise for the sake of keeping a lid on the frustration will enable bursting, new growth and a realization of why hope was worthwhile.
Halloween, cutting dead out of the sick tree, a landmark destroyed in the face of progress and civilization, and wind in the yellow g...