The house is still.
We had guests visiting us for a couple of nights over the weekend; this was a first since those long-ago pre-pandemic days when gathering with friends required no more worry than what was being served and where everyone would sleep. Now travel plans are made with hesitation, worry surrounds the days prior arrivals (will restrictions change, another variant surface?) and conversations often meander back to the impact this ‘event’ has had on all of us.
In the end, the weekend went without a hitch; food was made and consumed with love, drinks were poured, laughter and memories shared. It felt simultaneously as if we’d never not been hanging out together and as if we’ve been decades apart. So very surreal.
But now they have left and I sit here at my laptop looking out over the lake; the only sound I hear is the wind blowing outside. While my partner, John, drives the group to the nearby ski resort for the next leg of their tour, I am left with quiet time for contemplation.
Winds of change
The winds are strong today and the air is warming day-by-day leaving us with less snow yet more brightness. It feels as if I am bearing witness to the seasons transition right before my eyes. These winds of change will minimally bring warmth and sunshine for us to enjoy but I wonder if they won’t also bring other shifts as well? Transformation of some kind? Is it just me? Maybe I’m letting my optimism show but after days and even weeks where even I, the eternal optimist, had difficulty seeing a positive path forward I now feel there is a larger change happening. I can’t tell what it is, what it offers, but I am hopeful.
We took our visiting friends for a drive part-way around the lake yesterday and on our journey, on a winding road on the opposite side of the lake from us, we came upon a herd of bighorn sheep grazing on the side of the road. We seemed to bother them not at all as they just watched our gawking faces and clicking cell phone cameras. What rugged yet beautiful creatures they are, surviving in harsh conditions, rough terrain and what has been a withering year, environmentally. They seemed unfazed; I’m not sure that’s true but their calm demeanor reassured me that if they can survive all of the upheaval they have had to endure, surely we can as well.
Now that I have seen them in their home across the lake, I can no longer look in their direction and not think of them and the quiet strength they represent.
I am looking forward to brighter days. Warmer days. Days with new promise and possibility. And I’m sure these winds will guide them our way.