Imbolc’s promise
I’ve hit the point when it becomes evident that I can either take a break, or allow my brain to gracelessly implode.
I remember when I was just a little space cadet. I loved scenic paintings. I would find places in them- a rolling green hillside, a pine- strewn mountaintop, a sandy tropical shore- and imagine myself there.
I could smell the fresh dew in the air, the ocean spray- I could feel the sand under my bare feet, I could hear the wind in the grass, listen to the birds in the trees.
I could waste a whole afternoon like that.
Whenever I would get a chance, I would wander off in the desert for hours. I could lose myself collecting rocks and cactus skeletons, finding the highest point from which to admire the sunset, listen to the wind, feel it on my face.
I went to the beach with a church group once. I wandered off for so long, they called a search party on me.
I wandered back just as sunset became dusk, with handfuls of stones and shells and bits of driftwood tucked into my towel. People were irate, but I barely noticed. I was still soaking in the beauty of the ocean and sky, and I wasn’t coming down for a while.
These days I do my best to get myself to the woods, to the grassy hills, to anything even slightly resembling a beach in the tropics even if it’s muddier and the meditative effects of the vast expanse of the water are marred by the sounds of four- wheelers and vacationers reveling in destroying the silence.
But the winter… it gets old. It’s beautiful at first, but I miss the greenness. I miss the woods, the bugs, the leaves… not having to stack six layers of clothing on to go outside…
Basically I’m pining for Spring.
Imbolc was last week. I’ve noticed the tiny buds on the trees and the slow thawing of the ground, but everything is still pale and gray.
I have to get back to my writing. But I had to take a mini mental vacation and look at the pretty pictures I took last Spring and remember that it’s just around the corner.
And I’ll be wandering around in the woods again, with my camera and my pack, maybe my husband and some friends that I might wander from…
But usually, it’s just me, anyway. Just the way I like it.
February 11 2010 08:45 pm | culture and life and mental health and photography and utah
February 12th, 2010 at 9:09 am
I miss those moments too. I’m a seasonal child and love each one, but there comes a point when the next pulls on the heartstrings. (Hugs)Indigo
February 14th, 2010 at 2:16 pm
yeah, shouldn’t it be Spring yet??? Rus and I were saying we should do another May Day party this year, we were going to do one last year, but there wasn’t really a spring last year…
February 14th, 2010 at 5:49 pm
Oh, please, please have another May Day party? With the maypole and the ribbons and the food and the fun people? Pleeeeease??!