Sunday Morning Play

It is a cool Sunday morning.  Last night's rain has left the yard damp and there is a slight mist in the air. I'm sitting on the the front porch with my first cup of coffee for the day.  The warm coffee is a comforting balance to the cool dampness that has settled on the porch.

I'm treated to a special scene this morning.  There are 4 or 5 young deer in the field across the road playing what seems to be a game of tag.  One sprints past the others, making a sudden whoosh and little other sound.  Another, now a step behind launches into high speed to catch the first.  They run in a large circle, just inside the tree lined edges of the field. A third joins in as the first makes a quick juke to her right, through some bushes, and then back out into the field.  They are walking again.  A fourth deer seems to be quietly watching from the corner of the field, standing quite still, camouflaged by her color and the surrounding trees. Perhaps that is mom, looking for danger while her offspring chase and run and play in the cool damp air.

I am amazed at the acceleration of these animals.  There is no transition from standing still to full speed, just a whoosh and maybe the sound of leaves and branches being violently displaced.

As the morning light shifts from the dull twilight of dawn to more of an overcast, diffused brightness of the morning, my friends seem to be less comfortable in the open space of the field.  Their game quiets and they move more to treeline looking to snack on some tender undergrowth there.  I can't really see mom, but if I'm patient I can catch an occasional subtle movement that gives her hiding place away.

The wind is increasing now.  More rain seems inevitable this morning.  The leaves are blowing around and falling from some of the trees as they shudder in the breeze and begin their winter preparation.

Even with my sweatshirt and light jacket, I'm am starting to feel a little chill.  My coffee cup is empty and cold. The deer have retreated into the woods.  It is time for me to get started on my day.

Flying

I don't travel like I used to.  I suppose in some ways everyone can make that claim. It is not the experience it was when I was a young man.  Even with all the change though, there is one thing I still appreciate when I fly.  It provides a for a time of solitary reflection.  Even though I am in a very small space, surrounded by travelers from all over, I am largely left alone to pursue my  thoughts. 

I have written many things on airplanes over the years, letters mostly but with an occasional reflection on some fleeting notion that has caught my attention.  The reflections and many of the letters never survive.  When working with paper, the editing process is too cumbersome.  The first drafts are never acceptable and the rewrites are too hard to create and manage.  Throwing away the incomplete, convoluted draft always seemed easier than trying to turn it into something worth sharing. With the advent of the tablet computer I feel that maybe I can capture some of my reflections in a more malleable way. 

Today, I spent a lot of time editing a blog post at 30,000 feet above the earth traveling at hundreds of miles in an hour.  My seatmates were neither curious to learn about me nor interested in offering their stories.  I just pulled out my tablet and began writing.  This device doesn't require the space of a laptop so even in "cattle class", I'm able to use the device despite the person in front of me reclining their seat into my space.

The tablet computer records things like my tablets of paper in the older days but it also allows me the luxury of editing, rereading and editing again until the words fit together like puzzle pieces revealing a picture.  It is my favorite travel tool and it is what I use to maintain some sanity and hopefully some perspective while I travel.

Trust

It's early on a chilly Sunday morning.  I said goodbye to my daughter and her boyfriend, sending them off just a bit ago.  They had get an early start for their drive back to school after my niece's wedding yesterday.  I'm  too awake to get back to sleep so I decided to sit out on the deck and watch the morning develop and think about the last couple of days.

I'm looking out over China Lake in Maine.  I think I am facing south because I can see the reflection of the rising sun on the water to the right.  The squirrels are making quite a racket in the thicket of oak trees next to the deck.  They are like young boys horsing around, chasing each other through the maze of tree branches and throwing green acorns as they run that land on the ground, the deck or the roof.

I can see a young father is walking his little girl along the water's edge.  I wonder if they arrived last night and if the excitement of seeing the water was too much for the little one to sleep through so dad took her for a walk while mom and maybe a younger sibling caught a few more minutes of sleep.

Now it is quiet again.  The calm of the morning has descended upon me. I have a fresh, hot cup of coffee, a warm blanket on my lap and a little better atmosphere to reflect.  I have so much on my mind I am considering getting my computer so I can write faster, but that may defeat the advantage of the tablet.  The necessarily slower data entry creates more space for considering,  maybe a little time for more thoughtful writing.

Jaime and Darrin's wedding yesterday was wonderful!  Jaime, my Goddaughter, ask me to play something at their wedding which I readily agreed to do.  I didn't realize at the time that it was going to be a learning experience where the good Lord reminds me to trust that there is a plan, His plan.

To keep the story a little focused, I'll start by pointing out that Jamie didn't select the song for me to play until about three or four days before the wedding.  I got an email from the music director at the church saying that Where Love Is Found (Dan Shutte) was selected.  Up to that point, in the absence of a decision, I had been preparing The Wedding Song and Gather Us In as options.  I responded and told her that I was unfamiliar with Where Love Is Found, but I had the music and would learn it and prepare.  It was not a particularly difficult song to learn, but there were some interesting intervals that required practice.

The day of the wedding rehearsal arrived and I went to the church with the wedding party so I could work on the song with the music director.  The first surprise was that the  song, Where Love Is Found, I had been rehearsing was not the one the music director had selected.  The good news was that I knew the song she selected (Where There Is Love) and had the music for it.  The bad news was that it is a reasonably technical song and takes some work to do as a duet.  We pulled the music out and tried to run through it.  The short story is.... well... it was a train wreck.  I think both the music director and I had developed personal nuances with how we played the piece that were highly incompatible.  We work on it through the entire rehearsal and continued after everyone else had left.  It just wasn't coming together.  I wished my daughter had brought her flute.  She was more familiar with the way I played the song and might have played along with me rather than having the music director play the piano.  I was very concerned that it still needed work even after working on it for so long. 

I was reminding myself that since we were doing the piece as people were arriving, we might be able to get through it without anyone paying too much attention, when the deacon came up to the choir loft to let us know he was locking up the church.  He asked where in the ceremony we planned to play the song we were rehearsing.  We told him it was planned for a prelude, as people were arriving.  He said to us, "oh no, that will not do", he says.  He explains that the piece was too beautiful to be on the side.  It needed to be done after the vows, in the middle of the ceremony! My anxiety went up another notch.

When I got back to the cabin where we were staying, I told Barb had it had not gone well.  I wasn't sure what to do.  That is when I started to think about trusting God to make it right.  I said a prayer and did some more practicing on my own.  Going to sleep that night, I really wasn't sure what it was going to sound like.

I went early to the church the next day so we could rehearse some more. I think the music director had done some practicing the previous evening too.  Our first run through was much better. After that it improved a bit more.  We left it well enough alone and reviewed other music for the celebration. 

In the end, I'm not sure how it sounded.  I think it was recorded but I have not listened to it.  I don't think it was terrible. I was told it sounded nice, but I can never tell if someone is being honest or just polite when they say that.  It was through the grace of God that it came together at all.  How it came out and what people heard is His domain not mine.  I was reminded that if I do my best to prepare I can trust God to make it work to His plan.  This is a lesson that is always easier to see in retrospect than in the moment.  I hope that this experience will help me to remember to trust in God's plan while I do the best I can to do his will.

A Second Cup of Coffee

It's early Sunday morning and I find myself in my favorite chair on the front porch. The humidity from yesterday seems to have dissipated and the air is comfortable and fresh.  The house is actually a little stuffy by comparison, having been shut tight against the rain overnight.  As I was pouring my first cup of coffee and waiting for my bagel to toast I opened up the kitchen windows and let some of the morning air swirl around the room bringing with it the newness of the day.

Sitting outside now, I'm listening to the birds sing, squawk or peck on tree trunks as their nature inclines them to do.  The air conditioner hanging from my neighbor's window is working hard, emitting that combination gurgling and fan motor sound that seems unique to that particular appliance.  There is an occasional car door opening and slamming shut as neighbors run out on early morning errands, perhaps to pick up milk or a newspaper or maybe to head to an early morning church service.

I really didn't feel like writing this morning but I also realize that my New Year's resolution on that topic has not been thoroughly honored. On the one hand it feels like I should force myself to  write something even though there are so many other things to accomplish.  In contrast to his noble desire, and after spending what seemed to be an overly indulgent amount of time this morning just resting in my porch chair, enjoying the cool morning air, a warm cup of coffee and the predictable morning sounds, I was ready to forsake the writing, take stock of my situation and get started on the day's chores. 

I look at the clock and then at my empty coffee cup and lastly at my tablet, my preferred device for first draft creation, waiting patiently on the side table. It is clear that the best decision is to spend just a little time this morning writing.  It's an activity I really enjoy when I am not rushed.  The process of writing slows down the day. It is a way to get re-centered and gain perspective on the day.  The world will have to wait a little while longer before I plug in.  I'm taking the time to immerse myself in the solitary activity of converting thought and emotion to words, an activity that both challenges and energizes me.  There is time for a second cup of coffee and some introspection.

With coffee in hand, the sun cresting the horizon and tablet fully charged and open on my lap, I begin to record the morning's musings.  I am taking some satisfaction in this simple entry, not really for its quality, clarity or insight but really for its mere existence.  It is evidence that I got past a lazy moment.  Though I wrote only a little bit, it served to sufficiently recharge my batteries. After I finish this second cup of coffee I'll have the energy to begin my day in earnest.

Wedding Thoughts, The Overview

It's early on a Sunday morning and I'm sitting here on my porch. The sun has been up for just a short while. This has become my favorite place to think and write, especially on these Sunday mornings when the sky is clear, the sun is warm and steam lazily drifts up from my coffee as it slowly cools on the arm of my chair.   

Eileen and Eric Limer
July 12, 2015

Today, I'm relaxing and processing the events of last weekend. A rested, calm feeling has settled on me for the first time in many weeks and I feel like I have a little perspective. My son is now married to a wonderful young woman.  This fact turned out to be a bigger reality to wrap my mind around than I expected.  My heart is so incredibly filled with happiness for these newlyweds that I think it might burst if I don't do something.  Releasing that emotion by converting it to words is my coping mechanism today.  Today the words are organizing themselves more like notes from a classroom lecture.  They are serving as a container of sorts, perhaps a vase for holding the feelings and emotions collected like flowers along the way through the weekend.  This way maybe they'll stay fresh until I get back to write more about them individually and examine the intricate beauty of each.  

The whole wedding weekend was packed with anticipation and worries (now, in retrospect, completely unnecessary), chores and excitement, celebration and joy.  The weekend was made even more beautiful by a the regular occurrence of vivid memories from my own wedding.  They appeared randomly, suddenly, but with a warm welcome, like running into an old friend at a park.  Each precious, delicate jewel of memory was uniquely colored and shaped by the emotions of the long passed events.  Sometimes it was difficult to tell which moved me more, the events of the day or the connections to the memories of events so many years ago, a lifetime ago.

The weekend's activity generated many topics to consider writing more about.  It might be interesting, for instance, to describe the angst and uncertainty associated with preparing for the rehearsal dinner, the unexpected confidence I drew from having my father near as I played host to a group of people I just met, and the relief when it went well.  It could be fun to explore the moment when I stood in one corner room, and noticed the bride's father, Marty, in another corner of the room, my father in a third, each of us observing the young people from a different vantage point and, at least in my case, thinking about how we each unknowingly played a role in different times and places that made this day, this union, this new journey of two young people possible here and now.  How each of us through an act of love, had a necessary part in the love shared today. 

I'd like to capture some thoughts and feelings of the night before the wedding, the moments of quiet conversation with Eric in an empty hotel bar where I was at a loss to provide sage advice, but provided advice nonetheless.  I'd like to write about the next morning in Eric's hotel room where we chatted about mundane topics like technology and work while he wore a path in the carpet as he absentmindedly paced back and forth unconsciously checking his watch.  I want to describe how the hug from Eric as I was leaving him with his friends and the photographer transported me back 27 years earlier to the hug I gave my father as I left for the church and the sense of connection to family and history that hug produced; the feeling of passing the torch to a new generation.

I want to describe the feeling of arriving at the Hall Of Springs and seeing Eileen in her wedding dress for the first time, standing next to Eric, surrounded by friends and the spontaneous prayer of thanksgiving offered on their behalf.  I want to find a way to describe the feeling of watching my son stand in front of the assembled guests, nervous, serious, and then instantly break into a wide, relieved smile when he catches site of his bride making her entrance, a young lady so graceful, so delicate and so stunningly beautiful that many young men will envy her husband.  It could be a challenge to describe the pride and joy that surged through my soul while they exchanged their vows and the overwhelming happiness as they exchange rings and kissed as a married couple.  

There are things I want to record from the reception like learning about my son and his wife through interactions with their friends, and the realization that Eric is no longer the teenager that left my house for college.  Through their eyes I could see him as the man he has become, with an intelligent, funny and beautiful wife, surrounded by a good group of people who respect and support them.  I want to write about dancing with my daughters, and watching them dance with some of the young men at the reception, which brought about simultaneous feelings of dread and excitement for the years to come.

Lastly, there are some things worthy of consideration for short vignettes that are not directly wedding related. There was meeting Doris on one of my morning runs and who promised to pray for me and my children. There was also this general sense that  my younger children have grown up and become comfortable in their surroundings.  As I watched them handle their own affairs with the front desk and interact with strangers, I was both proud of the way they handled themselves and frightened by the speed at which the years are passing. Even mundane things like the family breakfast routine we naturally fell into with my parents and siblings would be fun to think more about.

This is quite a lot to consider writing about. Looking at it now, it's a little intimidating.  I know that the longer I wait to get started the more the memories will wilt and fade.  I'd better try to get some things started soon.  Where to begin (once I manage to find the time)...

Poems for Eric & Eileen's Wedding

 

This post requires a little explanation. My youngest daughter (Nikki) decided to put together a book of poems for my son Eric and his bride, Eileen, on their wedding day. She ask all of the relatives to contribute to the book. It came out very nice. Below are my contributions to Nikki's poem book.

Eric was a king on his own

Ruling  his life all alone

Then he married Eileen

And made her his queen

       And now they both share the same throne

--------

There once was a girl named Eileen

As pretty as ever been seen

She charmed our young Eric

On a scale that's numeric

Out of ten he scores her nineteen.

----------

New York City is the place to be

For excitement and living life free

Now that two join together

We'll see if and whether

They stay when the two become three

---------

There's a actress I know named Eileen

She part of the theater scene

My son, the web writer

Will spend life beside her

Sharing vows in July two thousand fifteen

----------

Children formed from love

Two come together as one

A new life ahead

--------------

Eileen and Eric

Two young people find love's bond

There's hope for the world
------------

The Missing Poem

Alas, there are poems left unwritten,

From those who are here in spirit but not in flesh,

From  those who touched our lives and left too early,

From those we remember fondly and miss on these special days.

Your Dziadziu, Eric would wish you and Eileen well,

Were he here to speak for himself.

So it is right and fitting that on this day of great joy

You remember him to your bride

As the eldest in our family,  Eric

You had a special place in Dziadziu's heart

Perhaps your memories of him may be fading

But the stories, retold, will remind you of his love

Think back on your younger years,

Of planting corn, country rides and

Quiet evenings on the porch watching cars go by

Share these stories with your wife as he would were he here

Honor Dziadziu with your memories the time with him

Let them come to you slowly, as he would Ric

With a loud laugh, and a big hug

With a friendly smile, and a story of days gone by

Know well too that he would not have us sullen today!

He would have that we celebrate and dance and drink!

He would say to you Eileen and to you Eric

God's blessing, God's wisdom, God's love be upon you

Until we meet again.

-In memory of Dziadziu

Father's Day 2015

It's Sunday morning and I'm sitting on the front porch sipping a warm cup of coffee and typing on my laptop. The day is new the air is crisp and clear.  The sun is creeping around the corner of the house and I feel  its warmth on my shoulders like the arm of a old friend.  It is Father's Day and, as I sit here enjoying the newness of the day and the wonder of the morning, I'm counting my blessings; considering how fortunate a man, a father, I am. Of course, my thoughts turn to the man who taught me to be a father.  I often consider how my dad shaped my life.  Since it is a day meant to honor our fathers, I am finally going to write some of my thoughts down; thoughts that have occurred to me many times but have never reach that part of my brain that allows me to give them a voice; to expose them to the world; to share them with my dad.

If my dad reads this, and I have every expectation he will, he will be surprised and a little embarrassed. He is a humble man. That is his way and I respect him for it. It is my hope that, in his quiet personal reflection, what I have written warms his heart.  I hope that deep within his spirit, he acknowledges this as validation of his impact on at my life, and by extension, the lives of my children.  Of course Dad does not seek validation, but as a son it is my duty and honor to give it, unbidden and with love. Our time on this earth is too short and unpredictable to leave things, important things, unacknowledged.

Quite simply, I am proud of my father. I am thankful that he is who he is and that he raised me in the way that formed the foundation of the man I am today.  Many people are aware of his story, the way he worked his way through college and law school while working full time to provide for our family.  It is an impressive story and no doubt if he had not done what he set out to do, my life would have been very different.  I learned a lot simply witnessing the events, and playing my bit part in that process, but it was only one of of many ways my sense of fatherhood was influenced.  I cannot possibly describe the entire breadth of Dad's influence on me. That would fill a lengthy novel. So when I really tried to understand what it was about my dad that most affected me; what particular nuance of our relationship was most influential, I came up with a recurring thought that isn't what I expected but upon close inspection is absolutely the case.

 Throughout my life I have had the security of knowing my dad had my back.  Regardless how busy he was or what else was going on, I have never doubted, even remotely, that my dad would do everything in his power to get me out of a jam.  I don't know why I knew it.  To my recollection, he's never taken me aside and said "Son, I'll always be there to get you out of a jam."  I believe that I came to the realization by just watching him live his life and be a reliable husband and father in so many other ways.  It must be that because he was there for me, my mother, brothers and sister in so many little things that he gave me confidence in that he would be there for the big ones.  I remember one time in particular when I planned to rent a car to get back to college after the summer.  I discovered that no one would rent a car to someone under the age of 25.  So Dad drove over to the airport and rented car, gave me the keys and trusted me with the responsibility of getting to school (an 11 hour drive) and returning the car to the rental car company in one piece.  He did this without fanfare, lectures or admonitions but certainly with a prayer or two.  I think he viewed it as just a simple way to solve a problem.  I viewed it as a life saving accommodation. This is just one instance of many I could relate. Over the years, this certainty of support gave me the courage to chase after my dreams; to jump into life with both feet because I knew there was a man, watching quietly and carefully, ready with advice and standing by with a life jacket if I needed it.  This is, in my opinion, the job description for a father.

Well, looking up from my keyboard, I now notice that the day is now in full bloom.  The occasional smell of my coffee wafting out of the mug as it slowly cools on the arm of my chair draws my attention back to the bright morning. I have a bit more time so I allow my mind to continue to wander.  As memories come to my consciousnesses and I sort though them, enjoying the reminiscing but also examining each to find one more that communicates something important.  

There is a particular Boy Scout camping trip  that comes to my mind, a trip I have thought of many times over the years.  To understand its impact on me, I'll point out that my parents raised 3 boys and a girl while Dad was working and going to school (adding a fourth son to the mix along the way).  This meant that one-on-one time with Dad was precious. So when I was perhaps eight or nine years old, it was a big deal that Dad was coming along on the annual weekend canoe trip to Pine river with me and my brother Dan. This is the only trip I can recall him coming on and in retrospect I imagine there were many other things that were put aside for the weekend so he could join us. As I remember it, the weather was nice and the three of us traveled together in one canoe for the first day of the trip.  Dan and I took turns paddling and sitting in the middle (between occasional dumps into the water).  I don't remember why, but my brother decided not to join us on the the second day of canoeing.  This gave me several hours of time alone with my dad; time without a project to complete or a schedule to be met.  I don't remember any of the conversation I'm sure we had.  I remember very little of specifics of that time in the canoe other than flipping over at one point and Dad finding $40 in a pocket of a shirt at the bottom of the river.  I do, however, remember with some clarity how I felt. I was connected with my dad.

Here is where words fail me.  I cannot transfer the depth and importance of the feelings of security and connectedness into language.  Communicating the feeling in words is about as easy as holding this morning's sunlight in my hand.  Thankfully, I can say that the feelings survive to this day, some four decades later.  I hope I have made that connection and provided that security to my son and my daughters in some way.  I hope that I have replicated the best examples of fatherhood my dad demonstrated to me. And, most importantly, I want to make sure that this day does not go by without me telling my dad how much I love and admire him.

 Happy Father's Day Dad. 

Rainy Night

It is a late on a warm, early summer evening. After a stuffy,  humid day the rain has arrived, cooling and clearing the night air.  I sit in bed exhausted after a long day. The sound of the rain outside is like a sedative that adds weight to my already heavy eyelids. I feel the urge to write something. I'm not exactly sure why, but I pick up my tablet and begin jotting notes. Like a car running out of fuel, my brain engages then disengages on seemingly random intervals. Refocusing I see partial sentences on the page, disconnected thoughts, nouns and verbs standing alone and isolated from any relevant context but connect in some way that I just don't have the energy to perceive.

The siren call to sleep is echoing in my ears. Consciousness is retreating and along with it the worries of the day. The faint breeze from the fan caresses me face and arms, carrying away the anxiety and stress.  I am offline.  Thoughts are mingled, disconnected and fleeting as the tide of slumber washes over me in gentle waves.   My soul is at peace. The rain continues its patter. The world retreats in slow, measures steps. I succumb to the rich comfort of sleep, thankful for the gift.

The Day Before

The very beginnings of preparation for tomorrow are a distant memory and now I'm ready.  Today is the day before and I am filled with anticipation.  A mix of emotions combine together forming a fine sauce that adds a tangy, sweet, delicious flavor to the wait for tomorrow.  This particular day is unique in its ingredients creating a special and memorable texture and intensity.  It is always the same recipe but never the exactly the same ingredients. The day before is just never the same but it is always familiar. 

Today has some of my favorite ingredients.  It is a beautiful spring morning.  The sun is shining, the air is warm and comfortable.  With these as a base, the likelihood of a good day is high.  The clear blue sky and bright morning light add expectation and excitement while they dull the sharp edges of anxiety. 

Of course the anxiety still leaks into my consciousness from the places I have it bottle up.  The negative thoughts lurk in dark corners at the back of the cupboards where my conscious thought are stored. It would be easy to accidentally mix their bitter taste into my sauce of postive attitude and ruin it.  That will not happen today, and not tomorrow; I’m paying attention and selecting thoughts deliberately and carefully, examining the contents before opening them up.    

In very subtle ways, today reminds me of the eve of other important days and calls to mind wonderful memories that confirm how well things will work out.  Having been here before, there is little mystery in my expection of tomorrow.

 It is amazing, however, that the academic knowledge of the past has no affect on the intensity of emotions.  The awareness of previous repetitions is simply garnish that adds color.  It is something that gives a lovely presentation to a stew of emotions but has no impact on the result.

I’m still excited and nervous, prepared yet uncertain, confident and anxious.  So many things can happen, but there is comfort in knowing that I have addressed all those things that can be influenced.  As for the rest, the random chances, the unfortunate coincidences, the forces of nature, I won’t waste my store of positive energy on trying to control them.  That is a fool’s errand.

So it is now time to begin the day.  I have a list of chores in front of me.  Some are necessary, some are even important.  Many others, certainly the majority, are simply collected together to provide distractions and diversions.  As the saying goes, a watched pot never boils.  Just watching the clock and awaiting the arrival of tomorrow could make for an endless day today.  I’m happy to have a complicated list of errands and activities to occupy my time even though I’m sure at the end of the day I’ll wonder why nothing of substance was actually accomplished.  Accomplishments, however, were never intended to be critical part of the recipe today.

Tomorrow will come on its own terms and I will be rested and prepared.  After tomorrow comes and goes I will relax.  This is too rich of a meal to be consumed regularly.  Once in a while is sufficient to remind me of the flavor but not so much that I lose my appetite when I think of it later.

Anniversary 2015

Dear Barb,

I planned on writing a beautiful poem or some sweet words for our anniversary this year.  I looked at a lot of Hallmark cards and was sure I could do better.  Alas, as always I've run out of time.  So this is the best I can do on such short notice (only 27 years).

Happy anniversary!  I love you more today than that chilly day 27 years ago when I looked into your blue eyes and vowed I would honor and cherish you.  I hope I have done that in ways that have made you happy.  I know that without you I would not be the man I am today.  You have helped me become a better husband, father and person.  For that I am grateful.  Our marriage, this partnership of equals, this blessed union  that we have is sacred to me and I promise to you again that I will be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health all the days of my life.  Please continue to tolerate my faults and be my partner as we watch the children grow into adults and as we make our way to a rediscovery of each other.  As we grow older I am looking forward to enjoying together this family, this home we have created on the foundation of our love.  Happy Anniversary Basia!  I love you.

Spring Reminder

I'm up early as my Sunday morning routine dictates.  As I walk outside to get the paper, I appreciate that the sun is already casting shadows on the lawn.  Its light just beginning to bend around the corner of the house and spill into the front porch.  The newness of the day, with its crisp and clean air lifts my spirit and awakens me to my surroundings. There is a chill in the air, but there is also a promise in the sun's light that this will ease into a warm and cheerful day.  I stop for a moment and gaze across the yards of pastel beige/green grass into the forest of brown, leafless trees and evergreens. I sense that nature is gathering her energy as she prepares to break forth with new life and renewal.  I listen to the to the morning bird songs and feel the slight breeze chill my skin.  These early spring mornings and their late fall cousins always remind me of the times I spent at my Grandmother's house in northern Wisconsin.  As walk back up the driveway toward he house, I pause my morning routine, just for just another moment.  I tell Grandma I love her, I miss her and will always think of her on the cool crisp mornings, when the sun is rising, the birds are singing and the day springs anew.

Welcome 2015

Welcome to my home 2015.  Please come in and make yourself comfortable.  We have been anxiously awaiting your arrival.  I understand you have brought a number of gifts for me and my family.  Let's not open them all right away, we have time.  They are all wrapped so nicely but some look like they might be very fragile. We'll have to be very careful with them. Don't worry about whether I'll like them.  I'm going to appreciate anything you've brought, even if I might not be too sure about how to use it right away.

I hope you brought some work clothes with you.  We have some projects to accomplish while you're here. Mostly home improvement stuff.  I'll show you the list later. I finished it last night.  Yes, we have a bunch of celebrations planned too.  It won't be all work and no play. There will be one or two celebrations so special that when we think about them years from now they will always remind us of your visit.  There is certainly a wedding planned so your name will be engraved on the rings and hearts of some very special people.

By the way, there are a couple of things around here that have been broken for some time. Can I ask for your help fixing them with while your here?  Some of them have been sitting around for way too long. Let's fix or clean out as much of the clutter as we can while you're here, okay?

I'm sorry.  I am being rude and have gotten way too far ahead of myself. You've had a long journey and there is no rush to get started on things. For today, let's just sit, talk and enjoy each others company. I hope that we can do a lot of relaxing and talking while you're with us.  Let's try to take time to appreciate our time together.  I know it will be over before I realize it.