“Alone” is a relative term & other early morning musings

A quiet morning dawns in Lake Superior land.  Light barely shows above the black shadows of trees at 7 a.m.  The temperature this morning was a balmy 47 degrees (8.3 Celcius).

I did start a fire in the woodstove and am not ashamed to admit it.  It was 67 degrees in the house (19.44 Celcius).  It’s suppose to reach a sultry 70 degrees today (21.11 Celcius).  If the sun shines with a mighty fervor above the trees, a fire would not be necessary.  But the weather predictions involve clouds and rain showers, so I gave us the gift of a warm house, thank you very much.

This "fellow" greets me daily down by the woodstove. Honest.

The woodstove hums merrily in the basement now and I’ve shed my long-sleeve shirt.

I am happy.

You know, the kind of happiness that surprises you sometimes when you wake up in the morning.  It’s a happiness that has nothing to do with anything–except the joy of being alive.  (Perhaps it comes from forgotten midnight dreams, but since those are long forgotten, we’ll just feel the joy of it without pondering any more.) This happiness seems to have forgotten all your little woes and worries, like a chalkboard eraser wipes the blackboard slate clean of concerns.

There is one reason I could be so happy.  This is one of the first days being alone in the house in five weeks.  It feels like meeting an old friend, this aloneness, and reveling in her.  I love being alone so much, although, gosh darn it, Barry and Kiah, you know I love you guys, too.

People who live alone all the time often speak of loneliness which arises, and perhaps it would arrive like a cloud to obscure the heart.  They speak of the challenges of needing assistance with no one to share chores, smiles, stories. 

I like the luxury of alone days intermingled with together days…

Moths can be as much company as humans. Can't they?

And of course, my day will only be alone until mid-afternoon. 

And during some of those hours, I must travel to town for errands.  In which case, may call my friend, Lyn–whom I haven’t seen in months and months and perhaps months–to suggest a walk around her three-mile block. 

In which case, it won’t be complete alone-time.

And that’s OK, too.

Come to think of it, are we ever alone?  There are at least forty fat red tomatoes squawking in the kitchen now. 

“We’re going to get soft and rot if you don’t can us!”  the tomatoes chatter.

A partridge inspects the tomatoes, pausing to commune with them.

I also have notes sitting all around this computer.  Want to hear what some of them say?

“Call Julie at BS&A Software.”  “Call John to answer his tax question.”  “Christina at the auditor.”  “Write Janet a note and tell her how much I appreciate her comment about this blog that she slipped in with her tax payment.”  (OK, the last note does not say all of that.  It just has Janet’s address.  Hi Janet, if you’re reading!  You made my day the other day.  Everybody should send love notes to their tax collector.)

 I am suddenly tired of writing blogs about Netflix and Facebook and want to share the simple happenings of our days in the woods.  I’ll bet you don’t even know what we do every single night, day in and day out here in the woods.  OK, some of you do.  Maybe it’s time for another blog about that daily fun.

(Some of you are frowning.  Facebook? you wonder.  What’s she talking about?  She hasn’t written a blog about Facebook lately.  And you’re right.  Only in my head.  Thanks to Pierre.  Pierre recently appeared on the blog I wrote Facebook,we’ve got issues and said something like,

“Interesting read, 16 months later, how are you feeling about Facebook, are your impressions still the same?”

My first thought was “16 MONTHS LATER?”   16 MONTHS LATER?  How could so much time have passed?  And how could I still be investing time thinking about the same issues 16 months later? Life is TOO short to think the same thoughts over and over again, without every resolving them! 

I told Pierre that maybe I’d write a follow-up blog discussing this, but instead got side-swiped by a Netflix letter.  (see yesterday.) 

Please meet Gerri, our Geranium. (Not related to any blogging friends.)

Waking up so happy this morning–not a concern in the world–except maybe the chatter of the tomatoes wanting to be canned–I suddenly am just smiling about all the ways we disagree with the ways of the world.  The way we think Netflix should cost under $10, how we want Facebook to be an on-line place where we feel 100% positive, how we wish our husband didn’t need a heart catheterization and knee surgery, how we want more or less alone time.

Gerri's crowning glory...just before frost nips 'er

I am going to eat breakfast now.  A bowl of rice topped with juicy ripe peach slices, sprinkled with–perhaps–slivered almonds or pecans–and a dash of coconut.

That’s enough.  

This beautiful moment–and then the next–and then the unfolding next.  When we stay close to what is arising in our lives–without disagreement–life can be a very beautiful gift.

P.S.  Ohmygoodness!  Just remembered.  I have a Skype phone date with my friend and blog reader, Nicole, in a half hour!  And will perhaps talk with Kiah and Chris today.  Perhaps “alone” is a relative term…