Lost in my little world - a diary

03/22/17

The frogs who live in the pond have arrived—big, green, and true magicians in the art of camouflage.  The Fisherman spotted one of the happy dwellers, and took me to the pond so I could see her, but I had the hardest time finding her.  These wood frogs are extremely cryptic when they hide from predators in the vegetation surrounding the pond. I finally had to move to another location before I could find her.  How happy that my little friends are finally returning to my world, and how gracious of them to make the space we occupy their own, as humans and creatures share this lovely world and walk our own holy land.

The fishes, too, have started to be more active, and six little goldfish were seen happily swimming this morning.  Happier felt us upon finding they were alive and doing well!    

It was very stormy last night... we were staying at the lake house, and from our bedroom we could hear the rain falling in torrents and the frenzy of winds lashing on trees and whipping the barren floors of the lake, which it has been drained for some repairs.  Up the woodsy mountains above the lake, clouds scudded frantically across the sky. Every few moments the moon ripped through them, creating wraithlike shadows that raced along the bleak panorama.   It was frightening, and wonderful and I went to sleep without a care in the world...

I love the sounds of Nature, and every night I am lulled to sleep by the artificial sound of rain coming from one of my Apps.  Not only I use these sounds to cover-up unwanted sounds, such as the acute snoring of a certain Fisherman, but also as a sleep aid.  There are so many wonderful, magical sounds you can chose from, and I have tried many, like the songs of whales, or the gentle slapping of waves on some remote shores, or the night songs of owls, but for some reason, I always stick to rain.  It somehow soothes me like no other sound.  When I'm in bed ready to go to sleep, I like to imagine that our little house is somewhere deep in some unknown forest, and from our bed I could hear the calls and sounds of wild animals nearby... coyotes and wolves and antelopes under the sound of a dark, soft night rain.       

3/23/17

Today, the UPS truck left a package on our front door that was meant for our neighbors across the hill.  It was a God-induced miscalculation I should say, because it gave me the wonderful opportunity to inquire about my friend, 'the gnome who lives across the hill'.  You see, all throughout the winter I had this strange feelings that something wasn't right with him, and I have missed our morning encounters across the little white cottage up the hill, and I have missed seeing him every morning quietly sipping his coffee on his favorite balance on the front porch. 

And indeed, he hasn't been well, and he showed me the huge scar which crosses the middle of his protruded abdomen from a recent surgery.  He has stopped smoking, which is a very good thing, and he has lost weight, which is also good.  But I could tell he's still feeling feeble.  After we talked for a bit, I offered a prayer and promised to keep him in my thoughts and prayers.  And I have.  And I should go visit again soon.  I know all too well what loneliness feels like, and know how it tugs on your gown hem, whispering nasty words, until it grabs you by your very soul, living you exhausted and depressed.  And I can tell he feels lonely.  I should do something to ease this, although there's not much I can do either.  But at least I do can pray...  

I'm desperately trying to understand this 'new' old body that menopause is throwing down on me. Shall I ever accept it, or at least try to make peace with it?  Pains, discomforts and ailments which have never before affected me are now my everyday cup of tea.  What I do accept with open arms, however, is the soul's changes and quiet inner beauty which also come with age.

“Odder still  how possessed I am with the feeling that now, aged 50, I’m just poised to shoot forth quite free straight and undeflected my bolts whatever they are. Therefore all this flitter flutter of weekly newspapers interests me not at all. These are the soul’s changes. I don’t believe in aging. I believe in forever altering one’s aspect to the sun. Hence my optimism. And to alter now, cleanly and sanely, I want to shuffle off this loose living randomness: people; reviews; fame; all the glittering scales; and be withdrawn, and concentrated.”  -Virginia Woolf - from her diary, October 1932