I'm Dreaming of a White .....

Night Views

I find something mystical about the reflection of the moon, cradled by the soft needles of a towering pine, in the dark water of the Lake.

Anniversary

Today I celebrate 31 years of marriage - October 11, 1980. Our wedding was at noon, but the sky was as dark as night and the deluge of rain would not let up.

There is a picture in our wedding album . . . I am poised under a large umbrella that my father holds just as I am about to dash to the car. This was not the graceful stroll on my father's arm that I had envisioned. I made it to the car dry, my father was not so lucky.

My mother, just before she was escorted to her seat by my brothers, brushed my cheek with a kiss and told me she loved me. My sister, maid of honor, proceeded me down the aisle. I was surrounded by my family, by their love. As I began to walk with my dad, I looked forward, to my future, watching my soon-to- be husband take his place on the altar.

An hour later, we were "Mr. and Mrs." We were so young. We thought we knew what lay ahead.

Of course, we didn't. But along the way, we learned and experienced what lay ahead. Together. Like any marriage, there has been happiness and sadness, profound joy and profound loss. But mostly, a whole lot of routine, day-to-day living. And I am grateful for every day. (Although there are certainly many days and many conversations that I could have done without!)

Doing it together. That is the way we handle the work of being married, of raising three children, of experiencing the routine moments of marriage. Doing it together.

For us, it works. Happy anniversary, honey.

Sojourn

Arrival



Sojourn, loosely defined, is to "stay for a time, in a place." I am on a sojourn in New Hampshire - for the full month of October.

Low, thick storm clouds covered the distant mountains and it was raining hard when I arrived in NH yesterday. When I woke up today, the rain was pelting off the metal roof, a rhythmic way to ease into the day. The rain has continued all day. I don't know how long it will last. That is part of the purpose of being here. Not knowing.

I am taking a rare opportunity to spend an extended period of time being quiet. An extended period of time away from the usual routines of home. An extended period of being alone. Bearing witness to nature as the season changes. To learn something new about myself.

I took several weeks to arrange this trip. Even though I made arrangements, I find it difficult to knowingly miss upcoming meetings/events/commitments that are important to me. Several of my friends quietly asked "Is everything okay?" (as in my marriage - it is!) I brought several specific projects with me. Among other things, I plan to walk, to write, to photograph the change of season and to paint. Mocha, my companion on this small adventure, will keep me on a bit of a daily routine.

At the end of the month I will return home. I will celebrate the wedding of a good friend. I will, I hope, be changed.