A recent sunset drew me outdoors with my camera, even though I had to boot up and suit up against the bitter cold. I mince my way down the driveway, which was packed with icy residue of countless snow and ice storms, and look back at my house. I remember why I painted that sassy sun several years ago, so that I could have sunshine, no matter how cold or dark the day.
Around back, the setting sun catches the hilltop across the highway.
Just to the left of center, can you see the picnic table and chairs? That's next to my creek (other people call it an irrigation ditch)--one of my favorite places in the summer.
And what looks like a double garage is actually where I dream of having an art studio. I also dream of painting a tropical scene on the outside, there to the left . . . but I haven't braved it yet . . concerned about neighbors' reactions . .
If I turn around, I can look in my bedroom window, up there above the single garage.
And there hangs the demon drainpipe, which the roofers forgot to re-attach . . . and which smacks and bangs with disturbing irregularity in a windstorm, which occurs all too often this stormy winter. Three phone calls to the company have elicited an "I'll swing by and fix that" promise, with no action attached as yet.
Yep, that furniture is right where I left it, after our last campfire and barbecue, last fall. The night was so lovely that I couldn't bear to take our food inside as we'd planned. We ended up eating at that table (snow-covered now), lit by a dozen candles.
Just down below are the stumps I'll have to figure out how to remove. I had two lovely trees growing in my back yard, but unfortunately, they were also growing kinda-sorta in and out of the house foundation. Last summer, a son and son-in-law and daughter tackled the trees, with just a hand saw, and got most of them sawed into chunks we could burn in my little fire pit.
I wander around front to the porch as the sun sinks out of sight. I'm warmed by memories of spring days and summer nights, of floating in my little backyard pool, of flowers and grass to cut, my creek to sit by, of meals cooked outdoors, of laughter with my children, with friends.
Snow still covers the ground, and will for weeks to come. But sweet and lovely warm times lie just underneath, sleeping, waiting.
I send out a silent welcome.
