It is a beautiful, crisp morning and Igor and I are about to commence our daily routine of rousing him out of his crate, and after a little playtime, off to the barn to train for an upcoming competition. But as I turn the corner and look off at the pond, I can see it looks different. The surface is glassy and still and the waterfowl are crowded in one small corner that still has some movement. It is the first time that I have seen the pond start to freeze over, and later my husband will comment that he watched geese walk across the surface. It is such a serene moment that in an instant, I alter my plans, and with my faithful companion by my side, wander down to the pond. With the sun rising in the background, I was able to catch this moment with my dog, Igor. Eleven months have passed since the start of the pandemic, six since I left California for North Carolina, and while both these beginnings were fraught with fear of the unknown, a much calmer and slower pace of life has settled in. There is more time to enjoy the bounty that nature offers. Too not be so distracted, that you miss the marvel of your surroundings. “It’s the beauty within us that makes it possible for us to recognize the beauty around us. The question is not what
you look at but what you see.” Henry David Thoreau – Walden https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walden
2020 has been a tough year with drastic changes to so many lives and so many people at odds with one another, that it is easy to feel anxious about the future. Yet right outside my door the herds of deer move through nightly to graze, the geese make their scheduled morning rounds, the Great Blue Heron pair fish daily in the pond, and the surrounding woods have changed their seasonal cloak, from, green, to red-gold, to a barrenness that allows for more light, and soon to be bursting forth with new growth in the spring. There is peace in this continuity and I am grateful for the pandemic’s gift of a slower paced life and the opportunity of contemplating my corner of the world.
Commentaires