Mornings and skies

I am not a morning person. Some people just need a cup of coffee or other stimulating beverage to get their mornings going. I need 10 am. But I have almost come to enjoy the mornings this past week. The weather has finally changed. When the boy and I leave for the bus stop in the mornings it is a little bit chilly, the sky is dark, and there are still a few stars shining, and the moon is still out. We set off, hand in hand in the dim light, watching his new shoes spark with each step, talking of random and sometimes silly things. This morning we talked about astronauts and satellites. I had pointed out the clouds that stood out in the moonlit sky, and told him how the sky and the clouds are my favorites things because they are never the same. Every day there is some new beauty to discover.



Some days the sky is tall and reminds me that I am but a speck on this great planet. Some days the clouds press down heavily, weighted with their unshed tears, and I am reminded that no matter how heavy the rain, the sun will come again. Some days the wind blows down and teases me into laughing at myself as it blows my hair into a whirling dance. Some days the sky is filled with sparks and rumbles and the electric wind makes me feel alive. Some days the sky is quiet, and it reminds me to be still.



As a child I was not a nature lover. When we lived in Florida, I spent many hours playing outside, but the idea of nature never occurred to me. I began to understand a little better when we lived in New Jersey and for the first time experienced the four seasons in all their glory. Then one day in high school, we had been in Georgia for several years, I remember stepping off the school bus and being suddenly assaulted by nature. It was like a veil had been removed from my eyes. I heard all the birds singing, every rustle of the leaves in the wind. And all the colors practically shouted at me. From that point onward I began to take notice of the world around me. When I moved to the mountains to attend college, I practically lived outside. I would take a blanket to the front lawn and nap or hang out with friends. My roommate and I would walk around campus singing hymns. After I was married and attending a different school, I still went outside at every opportunity. When I worked at the college, I would volunteer to run errands as much as possible. My office was an interior one and had no views of the outside. If the secretary across the hall had her blinds open, I could almost see a tree. And now, I sneak outside with a bag of garbage in hand, and take my time walking back to the front door. If I see a storm brewing I linger even longer in the wind. I have seen my love of the wind in Baby W. He giggles and tries to grab that thing that is blowing his curling(!) hair around and taking his breath away.



We went to the park again this past sunday. I put the babies in the grass. W.(in the blue) had a wonderful time walking in circles, while his brother(in the red shirt) tentatively touched the grass like it was some alien going to devour him.

Baby M is walking now, when he doesn't know he's doing it. I wanted to get some video of him walking at the park, but he wouldn't walk on the grass. His sister used to have the same aversion to grass, so I know he will grow out of it.

Well, the morning has progressed, and I must go grocery shopping. Woohoo. Have a beautiful day.

Oh yeah, my mom has started a blog. If you are interested she can be found at Patti's Ponderings(no, her name isn't patti, my husband suggested the name and it stuck).