Tuesday, November 07, 2006

Where We Belong...

Wild cherry?  Burst of color at the edge of the woods
At the edge of the woods

I'm taking long walks with the dogs in the morning, just around the farm so that TJ can dash wildly across the fields while Lily and I follow at a more sedate pace. Both dogs love the corn maze; now that it's not being used I feel OK in letting them play there. TJ romps through the rows; he seems to love the rowdy noises he can make shaking the dry stalks and leaping around surprising us at every turn. Lily primly follows the paths and sniffs urgently at tattered cobs where deer and raccoon have fed.

Riches!
Riches!

My very generous aunt in Connecticut send two boxes of wonderful books this past week; I've already delved deep into the piles and come up wealthy. Aunt's tastes are broad and she tends to send books that probe deep and leave haunting thoughts behind them. I just finished one, Three Junes by Julia Glass. About a family and the changes they face, it appealed to me at first because of the quiet theme of the dogs that ran through the pages. A telling line, for me, anyway, reads, "When it comes to life, we spin our own yarn, and where we end up is really, in fact, where we always intended to be."

Strange view of the house and barn
Strange view of the house from the barn

So I walk through quiet fields of family land, and think about the paths that have led me here, back where I always intended to be. Sometimes I lost sight of my intentions, I think, in my younger days. Knowing where you belong isn't so hard, but realizing it, or acknowledging it, is sometimes the struggle.

Dogs, posing nicely
TJ and Lily, after the walk

So I walk, with happy dogs that want so little of life, just attention, food and a safe place to doze in the sun. Tending to the needs of the animals brings a contentment to life. Watching birds at the birdfeeder through the ivy covered windows, listening to the rustle of hay as the rabbits feed, shearing a sleepy doe in the sunshine in a corner of the barn, and seeing the sheer joy of TJ as he runs through the fields. Changing seasons, slowing down, and taking the time to understand that I did, indeed, spin the strands that brought me here, back where I always intended to be.

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