This spot of enchanted forest is the new view from my back door — once the tree-cutting crews came through to make a right of way for a power line.  I was really upset about the losses at first, but now I am starting to see that the beauty is still there.  Sometimes I’m even able to appreciate the gaping hole in our forest, noticing, for instance, how I can appreciate the sunset for much longer now that there is nothing impeding the view.

Usually not.  But sometimes I manage it.

Anyway, I’ve had more than the usual opportunity recently to observe the views here.  I’ve been limited to whatever I can see from inside the house for the past several days.  My illness, which I’d imagined as nearly finished, completely wiped me out last week.  I’m still pretty weak.

And then, the very day the flu took a turn for the worse, my computer died.  Well, it turns out it’s only the screen that’s died, and luckily for me, F. is very handy with computers.  Still, it was rotten timing.

Basically I was on standby for a while there, in all senses of the word.

Coming back from standby, though, you suddenly appreciate your everyday, normal life so much more.  Just stepping outside to greet autumn in full swing is a delight.

What a privilege it is to revel in the crunch of pine needles underfoot, to breathe in and be able to smell the neighbor’s woodsmoke, the scent of pine sap in my cat’s thick, black fur, to have a fat rust-colored leaf brush my hair as it spirals down to join its fellows.  What a wonder, to look up into a golden tent and hear the wren’s concert live from the crooked branch.

What a miracle, to be able to walk into the amber and scarlet and blue tapestry that I’ve only been able to glimpse from the bedroom window for so long.  It really is like having a wall-hanging spring to life, three-dimensional, all of a sudden.  The effect reminds me of the scene in Voyage of the Dawn Treader, when the painting of the title ship is suddenly moving, her sails creaking, her crew at work on deck, through a sea whose waves soon spring up to drench the children observing all this in the bedroom where the artwork hangs.

The only response I seem capable of at this moment is deep gratitude.  I take so much for granted.

Including my connection to you.  I’m thankful you’re here, and I want you to know how touched I was to receive all those get-well wishes.  Y’all are lovely.

I’ll probably take a few more days to recover properly and then try to return to a more regular posting schedule.  Until then, here’s wishing you an awareness of the wonderful details of your everyday, normal life that you usually take for granted.  May you take joy in your life as it is now!

Namasté, y’all.

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