Nimrod, the stars, and the light

Edward Elgar - Enigma Variations - Nimrod | Leonard Bernstein

It is stunning this morning. Seventy degrees with a breeze you couldn't possibly buy, not with all the money in the world. But, no, it's there, suddenly, for our enjoyment, a deep, soft pleasure that rolls over your skin and touches you as if Elgar's Nimrod spilled over your aura and made you weep. This is my weather with its sheer pleasure of nearly-bare skin under starry dark skies, standing alongside a border collie who raises its nose to smell everything ever created. Windows are open, so I can hear the kitten, Iris, in the house roaming around, making racing noises. It's easy to see the silhouette of her practicing jumps in the air as she learns to become a lioness. 

My BC picks up a million scents, but my sense of smell zones in on the honeysuckle. It's one of my top favorite scents, but I prefer it as a tribute on the wind. Any other way, and it loses its feel of nostalgia, the roadmap to all the feelings that wash over us as sensory experience gives way to back-in-time travel. I'm in the 1970s if just for a moment, summer in Missouri. The peonies are done for the season, but there is honeysuckle. The smell stays with me for life, soft and poignant, not really dulling with time.

Some mornings, our hearts are full. Sometimes they are sad; sometimes lonely. Other times, we're thrilled to be alive; then the hard days return, and we question everything. That's okay, too. We start out life full of a bright and hopeful light in front of us, saying "come on, it's this way!" and off we go. A million side roads later, and we find that the light that once led our way is now just a hair past our shoulders. We know that with the passing of time, the light will ask us to stop glancing at it over our shoulders and instead, turn to follow it down that final path. It needn't be scary, but it is important to smell all the honeysuckle we can while we can.

This morning is a true and beautiful gift for me. If it had come wrapped in a 14-karat gold ribbon, I wouldn't have been surprised. Never take beauty for granted, for if we ever do, we'll cease to recognize it in all its glory. Light and love to you, always.

Early morning has its very own composition, the best song for sure

For the first time in ages, we have that early morning of 66 degrees complete with the balmiest of breezes, stars, moon, and an ecstatic, howling border collie loving the feel of the earth down to her bones. I am feeling it with her, and it creates a stronger-than-ever bond to my perfect, lovely, loyal creature. Every room in the house has open windows. It's 3:30 a.m., and a good breeze means that I can smell our giant lilac bushes and the honeysuckle that has taken over part of the back of our property. I'm waiting for the train whistle, which should be along any minute now.

My big, beautiful felines have gone outside to explore for a little bit, and I can see their gorgeous shapes in their silhouettes created by the lights on our smokehouse. They are perched on the old cistern behind our house, noses in the air. This is it. This is the heaven on earth that makes me long for my eternal heaven. If it's better than this, then my mind cannot wrap around how truly glorious it will be.

If I close my eyes, visions of grape Nehis and orange Fanta and Frosty blue cream soda float around, part of that "early morning, getting closer to summer" composition. I swear, I can smell funnel cakes, too. The warm, early morning song is truly something to experience, unlike any other time of the day and year. I'm not really sure if it's like this everywhere. My heart tells me that the blessing of living in a rural location or perhaps at the beach brings with it this experience of becoming one with the earth. It's not everywhere. I can't imagine not having it. I think my spirit would die without it.

It takes patience to get here. Cold, long springs, unpredictable winters, autumns that feel boiling then are suddenly far too cold,  you get the picture. But the reward is tremendous, and we find that patience pays. This year, we've officially waited for over three years to get cherries on our newest additions to the property - four sour cherry trees. And now, look at what the earth has yielded, impressive beyond comprehension how nature gives to us on a daily basis.

Today looks stunning, minus the threat of some gusty winds and a thunderstorm at some point. I'm hoping we get a gentle thunderstorm but that the gusty winds die out before getting here. As they say, time will tell. Life is a series of losses and gains, with a giant heaping helping of uncertainty thrown into the mix. If you live long enough, you find this out. That's why it's so important to feel the earth, eat the funnel cake, take in the nostalgic flavors of our youth. 

I opted for a biscuit with Dukes mayo, fresh tomato and sweet onion this morning. It felt like flavors that are highly acquainted with a perfect, early morning, so that's what I had, and it was wonderful. It's hard to imagine that Halloween is only six months away. Where did those other six months go? I try to account for them mentally, but it's easier to give that up and just live in the present.

Love to you on this Sunday, the first day of May 2022. I hope you have beautiful weather today and that whatever represents your honeysuckle and lilac blows your way and brings you deep pleasure, right down to your core.