bits of sunshine

a favorite picture

just this :: i love these two kiddos of mine

(and our dog and summer and sunshine) 

comtemplating the beaver's dam

on thursday, i spent some time down by the river.  i took chaco with me, and i walked while he ran in the cool wind and sun through clouds. 

once by the river, i sat for a time by the beaver dam.  the beaver dam that is new since august sometime.  i contemplated the changes the beavers have made in such a short time.  i thought about how some people hate beavers and what they do to a river.  i thought about how much i was enjoying the sound of the water falling over and through the sticks and rocks.  i noticed the new tiny cottonwoods growing up on the edges where the river had narrowed below the dam.  i noticed the deer tracks along the new, wide pond above the dam.  i realized that there was now an above and below, not just upriver and down. 

i'm sure you can think of so many times that people have used a river as a metaphor for life.  it's almost worn out, this metaphor.  but it is true.  so very true.  my life is a river.  winding and flowing, ebbing and rushing, laughing over rocks in the shallows, moving silently over the dark of the deeps.  shaped by my circumstances and my own ideas.  

and what of beavers?  my children, it dawned on me, are my beavers.  they moved into my life and they continually change the flow.  they reroute my river.  where i used to be able to move along, at a certain pace, having children has sometimes caused me to slow that pace, reroute, create something new and different in the flow of life, something i would not have expected or planned.  and now that my children are teenagers, they have ideas of their own.  they have plans for their river.  sometimes they bring circumstances out of their control into my river, that for this time of our lives, is our river.  sometimes they bring sticks and rocks and branches and leaves into the river and create a dam.  sometimes, they even down a favorite tree on the river's edge. 

and if i were not in the habit of looking for the beauty in all of this, i could allow selfishness to cloud my life and only see the differences as ugliness.  i would miss how the sound of the water changed from over rocks to through branches and how that is beautiful, too.  i would fail to see how the rerouting of the river allows new growth along the banks, new spaces to emerge, new pools and eddies, new places for nourishment.  if i did not love my children and remember to embrace the visceral reality of doing life together, i would miss the ways we grow together and separately alongside each other.  i would forget to or refuse to appreciate that our branches and brambles and work add richness and utility and wonder to our life together.  

{the little missouri at my favorite bend before the beaver dam}

{the little missouri at my favorite bend, which is now a pool, after the beaver dam}

the river, at my favorite bend, was beautiful before.  and it is beautiful now. 

and so, my life.

go gently, love fiercely, and be wonderful, my friends.

love, e

under the cottonwoods

thursday afternoon, sitting in my cottonwood cathedral
cool breeze rustling the drying leaves
putting my thoughts into words on paper

cottonwoods have been my happy place since i was seven years old
we had moved again
{seven times + the trip to haiti that didn't end up long enough to really count as living there}

there was a cottonwood in the cul-de-sac behind our new home
it was big enough for many of us to climb into together
and under the tree, there was a deep depression around the roots, perfect for a fort

there was also a cottonwood in our backyard
my dad would put a lawn chair under that tree on sunday afternoons
he'd sit there and drink his coffee, read a book or the paper, doze
in the shade, in the breeze, listening to the leaves click
sometimes i would sit with him

during college i wrote an essay about the cottonwood tree in the cul-de-sac

in the first years that ben and i were married, we didn't live in cottonwood country
and it seems as though people don't often want them in town

when ben and i chose land to build on, we chose land with oaks and cottonwoods
in fact, there was a huge cottonwood tree by the road
and the area around her was filled with all her daughters and granddaughters growing up
i carefully mowed around about forty of her babies in our front yard,
nurturing a little cottonwood forest and sunshade

after coming to the hard realization that we would have to leave that land,
we took a fifteen-day road trip
and my soul rose up in joy
when i realized that there are cottonwoods all the way to california

the next summer we found a spot at glendalough state park
where we could rest and swim and picnic and play
under cottonwoods and sunshine
by cool water

i realized that a few of my cottonwood babies
had sprouted in my flower pots
and i left them in with my flowers in front of our tiny apartment

i ended up bringing those babies along to camp crook,
though, i wouldn't have needed to

as we drove into camp crook,
we were greeted by rows and rows of weather-worn, twisted, bent, beautiful cottonwoods
all along the little missouri

i found my cottonwood cathedral
below the field behind our house

i found a favorite cottonwood tree
that first fall
between the school and the fairgrounds
i photographed that tree many times
when i needed to rest my mind and heart

i continue to crave the sun-dappled shade, the clicking song of breeze in leaves
all my walks and pictures and runs and musings
rests and breathing
prayers and questions and praise
under my cottonwoods
in the cathedral i share
with the deer and
sometimes an owl
once a blue heron
often chaco
always my God