A cool summer morning
And the memory of loons
There was a summer when I was in my thirties when I worked as a camp nurse on an island in New Hampshire. No cars were allowed there, and that in itself was magic enough for me. You would often hear the sound of loons, and I had never heard them before, and I thought they were mysterious and wonderful and funny.
I saw a nature video this morning that featured loons, and it brought me back to that time when I would sit out on my little deck in the early morning, where the air felt like it had been washed, and where nature didn’t have to take second place to anything. I suppose and I hope that I will learn the lessons of the solace of nature for the rest of my life. For the time being, sitting here at the kitchen table and scrolling through emails and coming upon this video of loons, I am grateful for the reminder of what gifts we are given by simply holding still and listening.
On my front porch, in a well-used nest, there are two baby mourning doves, recently born. The first time I saw them, I greeted them, and they seemed afraid. But now, after almost a week of them seeing me come out every morning for the paper, they exhibit a kind of curiosity. Last year, there were three tenants back to back in that nest. This year we are up to two and waiting to see if, when these babies fly away, yet another mother will come and sit on her eggs.
And now, as is my practice, I’m going to drop a stone in a little bowl of water and offer gratitude for something, for one of the many things I have to be grateful for. Then I’m going to read a poem, which is also my practice. Currently, I am reading poems by Dorianne Laux, from her book called ONLY AS THE DAY IS LONG. I’ll give you a tiny sample of a poem, just the first stanza. And then I hope you’ll consider maybe buying this book to have for your own.
THE TOOTH FAIRY
They brushed a quarter with glue
and glitter, slipped in on bare
feet, and without waking me
painted rows of delicate gold
footprints on my sheets with a love
so quiet, I still can’t hear it.
I will confess that it's only this past year that I've learned to really appreciate poetry. I took a course that my friend taught - she was a teacher once upon a time. She opened my eyes to the beauty of poetry for which I will be eternally grateful.
One question - the stones - do you just let them pile up? If yes, how many do you think there are? Interesting concept. I remember years ago Oprah suggested we write three (I think it was three - I stopped doing it long ago!) things we were grateful for each night. I'm living my life in gratitude. I wake up every day determined to live in joy - not to let small stuff interfere and bother me for too long. We are at that stage of life where we can't afford to spill ugly on our days - there are too few left!
Oh Elizabeth, I don’t think I have ever heard a loon, but here along the coast in San Diego, I see the huge flocks of brown pelicans flying by. They were almost extinct until DDT was banned, and now they go by every day. The first poem I read this morning was “daffodils” by Wordsworth. Now you have given me another poet to enjoy. My bedside book stack grows ever larger thanks to you!