Snowy Saturday

It is the last Saturday morning in December and I am waiting for the snow to begin. Our plans to drive to Hartford to meet our new grand-niece, Lila, have been thwarted by the weather. While disappointed about today's trip, I am excited to go with plan B to spend the first day of the new year with her. I will relish my anticipation until then!

With a 'free' day at home, I am planning how I will make the most of the snowy weather and it will surely involve lighting the fireplace, a good book and stitching (maybe with some housekeeping thrown in). I am out of grape jelly so perhaps I will make a batch from the grapes I pressed and stored in the freezer.

Clutter from the holidays is scattered here and there. As I bend to pick things up while waiting for my tea to brew (a lovely Ronnefeldt Red Berries blend), delicious options skip through my head. I can do anything I want...or not.

It occurs to me that I am going into the new year more settled than I have been in a long time. My focus is renewed and priorities adjusted. There are still a few rough edges which need smoothed - I supposed there will always be - and I will deal with them when they warrant it.

Fotopastele Photography

I am savoring the ordinary moments - the taste of the rich fruit tea on my tongue, knowing that some of my grandmother's family-famous spritz that I make last week are still in the cookie tin and I can get one any time I want to. Cozy socks, our snoozing dog tucked into the crook of my dozing husband's legs in the other room and music played softly in the background soothe me.

I will make a rich beef stroganoff for dinner. By then, the snow will be flying in earnest and the comfort food will be welcome - perhaps in front of the fireplace. Hmmmm. I wonder if I can find an old movie from the 50's on TV - that wonderful time when entertainment was joy-filled.

There is a lot to be said for ordinary moments. While they mostly scoot by me unheeded, paying attention to them is creating a whole different mindset. Today, I will take note of each one and savor their simplicity. Paying attention is my reward.

One Tiny Ant

Yes, I know this is a cat but he is crawling

I am sitting in front of my computer on the third floor of the house where the walls are cozily slanted and the two shaded lamps close by are casting shadows behind me.  The windows are closed against an unseasonable chill and have been for weeks to keep out the bright yellow pine pollen which has blanketed everything in its path.  So why did a tiny ant walk across my thumb?

A different one walked over the back of my hand yesterday.  Maybe two - or was that on another day as well?  When I lifted the papers on the desk, nada - not an ant to be found.  Just one at a time, walking on the mountain ridges of my fingers.

Now the itchy phenomena begins.  I scrunch up my back against an imagined tickle along my spine and scratch my head above my ear which is momentarily sensitive to a pin prick of feeling.  I scratch my ankle but nothing is there.  Why is that?  Why am I squirming when nothing is really there?

We all do the ant dance from time to time.  Little prickles set off an avalanche of bothersome signals which claim our attention.  We imagine what someone is thinking about us when we pass in the hall or interpret a glance the wrong way and think we forgot to do something.  The pile of unread magazines grows and the folder which has two inches of torn-out recipes (and not one ever made) bother us. We squirm a little in our imaginings wondering what to do remedy the situation.

What we think and what is real can be as far apart as the ant and the itch. The itch is of our own making.  That person in the hall with the screwed up face was thinking about the meeting he was rushing to.  What is another recipe in the stash if it has possibilities?  It is all small stuff, minor annoyances which distract us for a time or, perhaps, gives us a moment of clarity where we see what is really there and what isn't...important.

Like the tiny dancing ant using the back of my hand as a stage.  All he wants is a little attention.