"The sun did not shine. It was too wet to play. So we sat in the house All that cold, cold, wet day..."
Spring Break.
Its Sunday evening...wrapping up what ended up being a fairly soggy spring break. Dark clouds and rains dominated the better part of our week. And sitting here listening to the winds colliding with the side of the house, I'd say we are in for another pacific northwest storm. Most pacific northwestern folk get down right defensive if you start to sputter about the weather out here. People here were born into the grey and dip themselves into their morning latte's before rolling around in the dampness with a sense of cheer that is really hard to understand. It takes a special soul to embrace their inner sponge - to glory in never ending, heavy lidded skies with a sense of promise...to revel in moss and ferns...and to plant themselves in the wet grass, overlooking the saturated earth and instead to marvel on the budding magnolia's.
Sigh. I'm afraid I have given up trying to camouflage myself into the midst of these hearty, rain-forest folk. What can I say? For better or worse, I was raised in the heartland. The Great Plains, the Nebraska Sandills and the crowning Buttes of Western Nebraska surrounded me for the better part of my youth.
And while I admit, that while growing up there, I spent most of
my time craving to be almost anywhere else, I must admit there
are times when my water- logged soul craves the warm sweet
smells of sweet grass and ponderosa pines.
In my later years I moved to Missoula, MT.
And let me tell you,
nestled within the foothills of that beautiful community,
my soul came alive.
I hold many memories of quiet walks in the Rattlesnake wilderness with
my dear friend, stopping to listen to the breaths of wind move through the evergreens. Sitting in the center of clear rivers in Glaciar we would recite Walt Whitman at the top of our lungs while watercoloring the ever changing patterns of nature around us. (Yeah. I was a bit of a hippie chick.) The air was dry and so was the earth. And I loved sitting in the warm grasses playing my cedar flute and conjuring spirit animals over fires. I loved seasons, the color of the hills surrounding Missoula in the autumn sunlight, and the smell of woodsmoke in the winter. Ah. Dry country.
Yep. I love Montana. I met my husband there too. And while his own sweet spirit has been equally divided between mountains of western Montana, and the call of the rocking seas (he spent 7 years with the Coast Guard) I think this drizzly, downpour gets to him a little bit too.
And speaking of transplants, my children were born in Ethiopia. Talk about culture shock!
We met them in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. A city alive with spices, cattle in the marketplace, donkeys in the streets, scribes, nuns, coffee shops, crazy traffic, universities, restaraunts and a heartfelt clash of poverty and need colliding against the driving hum of city that seems to be exploding with humans and animals, all struggling and striving to survive.
Yet everywhere we went, the Ethiopian people, like their sun baked earth, were warm to us. They held out their arms and received us, encouraged us, fed us, and taught us the meaning of grace.
And the sun, how it shone. White hot light, stretching the air into a haze and carrying the voices of the children in the orphanages high on the wind, it was breathless at times...waiting for the spring rains to bring relief. Waiting for the rains, that as far as we know, never came.
And so...we transplants...find ourselves a little grouchy during a spring break that barely squeezed a day of hazy sunshine out of its murky clouds. Jonas, recovering from a 3- day stint in the hospital with RSV is hit especially with spring fever. He wants to get out. To DO something!!
And after a week of indoor puzzles, books, movies, online checkers, PBS kids games and driving to my empty school to ride tricycles around the halls, we are finally gifted with a day of muted sunshine. And let me tell you. WE TAKE IT!!
And so off we went to Larabee State park. Canoe on the rooftop, buckets for collecting rocks and a picnic lunch in the back, we drove down the road singing at the top of our voices.
Jonas throwing rocks. Jember wades in ankle deep.
Life is good.
All he needs is sunshine and a bucket of rocks to throw.
Sunshine girl.
The rains and clouds return the next day. 10-day forecast calls for rain, rain and more rain.
Will try to keep our chins up. Maybe dream of moving somewhere drier. Until then, we remain thankful for the good things. Good friends to cheer us, warm drinks to take the edge off, and a promise that summer...eventually...will find us.
In the meantime, we make our own sunshine around here. And trust me, when these two smile they really bring the light...
Thank Goodness for Jonas and Jember!!!
