May 3, 2019
One of my favorite things here is to wake up to a foggy morning. Fog so thick, you can’t see out the window into the yard - just faint outlines of trees through the window from bed. Fog so thick, you can’t see across the street to the gorgeous view of the reservoir - it’s enough on some days just to know it’s there. Somewhere out there. Fog so thick, the moisture just hangs heavy, so heavy, in the air. You can feel the moistness on your face as you walk outside through the dense heavy air. Rain boots squashing through the grass - as wet as though it rained all night long. The dew dripping over each and every blade. The contrast of the white mysterious fog and the brightest greenest dew-soaked grass. It takes your breath away. And you are reminded yet again of how lucky you are to be here - smack dab in the middle of nature. There is no getting away from her. She is everywhere. She is glorious. And she does not give a shit that it is May 3, just halfway through Spring and that you would expect things would be warmer by this point. She is here to show you that it may not be warm yet, but it is beautiful and you are lucky to experience her so intimately. To watch the lilacs start to blossom, to experience the fuzzy buds of the magnolia tree one day and the blossoms the next and the flowers on the ground not long after. It’s all so ephemeral. You must take in every single moment and just when you wish that the bright yellow flames of the forsythia swaths would remain as a backdrop for the leaves finally finally showing on the trees, you realize they will fall away sooner than you would like. But who are you to tell Mama how to space out her gifts? She’s got this whole thing figured out. You just need to sit back and take notice and allow your breath to be taken away every single day.