Each day, a little more of our treasured past, our haven, our love and life and being in one spot, all together, with such magic, is taken away. Because time is, yes. But also because of spite and dislike.
Although our tiny haven is being dismantled, we have no other options, so as we watch it all fade, we focus in, trying to make safe and beautiful spaces in what we have left.
Inside, as a few overwintered plants send up blooms, and the first shrubs are in flower, gathering small handfuls of bliss, the penguin paperback tones of wallflowers, the kitchen cabinet white of the spirea. Tiny corners of pretty, in a world of ugly.
outside, tidying up our seating area, where soon we will be able to eat at dusk, with bats flying overhead and candle lanterns glowing, I wonder if I will ever love evenings as much when this is gone. Now they are my so special times. I adore bats. I love the chattering of the chickens as they go to bed, the blowsy late evening scent of the broom. I wonder if I can remember it all forever, if petty people succeed in taking it away?
Grounded. I wonder if this is it. The moment the worm turns. The day I actually say, yes Lord, I'm here, and I can do what You ask. Not sure what it is, but I'm gonna do it.