I stepped out the door this morning and was assaulted by the
noise. The blissful quiet after Blizzard Nemo was wonderful, but it has passed
us by. With no one on the road and barely anyone moving anywhere over the
weekend, it was so quiet, and now all I can hear is the scraping of plows, the noise of the train yard and the hum of the highway, which on a winter
day, with no leaves on the trees, combine and sound like an airplane.
It’s the trade off. I enjoy living in the city. We can do
most anything we need to in our small house and yard. I not-so-patiently await
the growth of our fruit trees to absorb the sound a bit more in summer, but this winter is noisy. For a few days I forgot
about it, snuggled in the house, with the new windows we had installed,
oblivious to the world around us. Once in awhile, our dog will bark because he
hears a noise outside, and if we are really quiet, we can hear a neighbors’ dog
or people walking by. Otherwise, it is a quiet refuge.
Sometimes I do think of living in a more rural area, with
more land, but I am not satisfied that I have given this a sufficient try. It’s
only our 2nd year with a wood stove, garden beds, energy efficient
windows, etc. and I would like to see where it leads. I want to continue on and
see how far we can take this. We lessen our requirements (spending and possessions), recycle,
create a refuge in the city, and work toward living sustainably. I hope someday
to learn enough to help others do the same.
For now I will be grateful for what the city offers: living close to
work and having a short commute, everything we need within walking distance, family
nearby, utilities that rarely shut off, and a beautiful city to live in.
In my mind I retreat to the woods and seek that quiet place
inside. With the right practice and meditation, I can sometimes counter the
abrasive part of the city around me and find the peace within myself that enjoys being present today and doesn't wish for tomorrow. A useful
practice for February and the near-end of winter when most of the days have
been gray and cold.
Just about this time, the ordering of seeds, trees and new
plants starts and so the dreams of spring begin. If you are feeling like I am, a
little restless and needing some long hours of light, hold onto spring in snows
of February, but don't forget to live the winter too. Soon there will be flowers again, and we will turn our faces
toward the sky, put our hands in the soil, and rejoice with the first seeds
that sprout. We will walk in warm spring rains, shedding the dark layers of winter clothing and we will stop mourning the
sun who day by day returns to us.
It is how this circle works. Just when we get to the point where we think we cannot stand another day of winter, the first Robin appears and just like that, spring is here. And by the end of summer we will start dreaming again of cold winter nights with fresh bread and stews and sitting by the fire.
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| Butterfly Museum |
