Quenching Spring Fever

Came home from school on this warm afternoon fired up to get spring rolling, determined to start the annual fruit tree pruning. Snow still on the ground so I put on my irrigation black rubber boots that come to the tops of my calves. Oiled the lopping shears and headed for the peach trees. I was so eager, so excited. The sun was warm on my face and I unbuttoned my jacket. By the time I got to the first tree in line, snow had filled my boots and my feet were wet. Soon they were freezing. I got one tree mostly done and had to quit. I did find the buried water hose for the horses and thawed it out so they could have fresh water, though. Then a friend came to visit and gave me an excuse to wait for a couple more days. My spring fever has abated and cooled a little until my feet warm up, but by Friday will be raging again I'm sure.

TOUCHES I LOVE

Touches on the outside:

Grass under bare feet
Fingers in my hair
Sunshine on my shoulders
A child's hand
A spouse's hand
Breezes through my shirt
Rolling sweat
Blue-white winter days' sharpness against my cheek
A horse's muzzle
A cat's tongue
A dog's fur at the base of his ear
A horse's heart beat between my legs
Water sliding along my body when swimming
Cool summer sheets
Warm winter fleece
Silk
Satin
Flannel
Bread on my tongue
A roll in the snow when super heated
A waterfall on my head and shoulders
A snowflake on my nose
An autumn leaf resting in my palm
A massage
A full stream from the tap on my toes
Hugs
Kisses
The weight of quilts in winter and nothing in summer
Cozy sleeping bags
Tugs on the belaying line
An all over brush scratching
The grip of a butterfly
Skinny dipping

Touches on the inside:

Music
Laughter
"Heart sneezes"
A nice meal
Learning
Hugs and Kisses
Love
Light and color
Exercise
Rhythm
A good reading book
Chuckles
Things of the Spirit

Touching Thoughts

Since touch is something I have come to realize is very important to me, I am going to put a few things as I come across them together here. Maybe I can come close to expressing some of what I feel, some of what I understand through touch of all kinds. This will be a changing and growing blog, I hope. To begin:

". . . we are not endowed with real life, and all that seems most real about us is but the thinnest substance of a dream---till the heart be touched. That touch creates us."

Nathaniel Hawthorne (from his notebooks)

I'm not a poet, either, but . . .

Velvet reds, maroons

Fires orange, showers yellow

Renewing autumn

(a humble attempt at Haiku)

Starlight

I saw The Milky Way for the first time in a long time this morning on the way to work. So refreshing. So simple. So good.

The Male Dance

There is a special feeling of mutual understanding and respect that develops when men work at hard labor together. It is best when each knows what to do, digs in without instructions and joins the rhythm, the dance as happened this time. As tasks change and are completed, each moves to the next step without interrupting the dance. Conversation is limited, in fact, rarely needed, and is little more than bits of banter. But there is an awareness of what each of the other partners is adding to the dance. Each leads, each follows in turn, each carries his share of the labor and more. There is woven through the dance, a tapestry of respect, trust, shared skills, and memories that bind. One looks and thinks, "This is how men work, and I am one of them. I am accepted in this dance of men. I am a man." Such an experience is essential from time to time to every man so he can take his own measure and assure his heart that his place in this world is secure.


Last Thursday I had the joy of having three of my "seven sons" come and assist in removing 11 cottonwood trees. There was heat, dust, noise, and physical labor plenty. But I will cherish the "dance" that ensued for a long time. A special part that made my heart swell with pride was when I looked up and saw "our women" who were there, pitching in and working, too. They stacked, pulled, and hauled along side the men. Perhaps it is a strange thing to feel such a mundane experience is so special, but to me it is. More importantly, I know the family members who were not there due to distance, work commitments, or health situations would have and could have joined in the "dance" were they able to arrange it. These bindings, whether they come from working side by side, hiking Timp, wading the Narrows, birthing a child, making a home, or living and forgiving together, are the bindings of eternity. These bindings are as strong and eternal as any other.

More Wanderings

Late, tired, and can't sleep. Wind is blowing the trees outside. I can easily imagine it to be the wind in the Limber pines back at Wheeler Peak of the last 4 days. Miss them already. Wind in pines is a unique melody with its own harmony. Love mountains. They are cleansing and uplifting in so many ways. My place in Paradise has some breath-taking mountains.
There was a small stream, lined by green grass and filled with moss covered rocks. Music. When I was still, I could hear a pitch below me, one in front, and two more different ones upstream at a small water fall. Their harmony was constantly changing, but always there, always in harmony. Literal music. All things have their music. So much is above or below our receptive range right now. Even the pitch of the universe itself is measured and known as it hums along very, very low. I am anxious to get my real hearing back. Maybe then the "still, small voice" won't be so difficult to hear at times. What music there must be!
I love the music of Judy's heartbeat accompanied by the rhythm of her breathings. I love the music of wind, leaves, and streams. I love the music of laughter, especially childrens'. I love the music of moving water, especially in a forest rain, or snow fall. Have you ever been quiet enough to hear the snow fall? I love the music of thunder in a slot canyon or between high peaks. It rocks me. I love the music of heart to heart communication that uses no voices.
Watching Judy play in the forest was music in motion. A dance. No agenda. No place to go. Just beauty to observe, wonders to see, music to hear. She played and explored with the innocent joy of a small child and took wonder in many of the same things. It brought youth and fun back into my heart to be with her. What a gift to be able to set aside adult cares in so carefree a manner. Now I understand Him better when He said, "one must become as a little child. . ."