What does a family do when they leave 104' for a rainy, lightning-filled island forest?
- Fill tube socks with ancient grains from the pantry for bean bags.
- Take those even-more-ancient jars & create temporary terrariums.
- Hold open our mouths & throw back our heads to drink it all in.
His Dragonfly with My Damselfly
- Save just-born fairy-bugs after their two-year status as water bugs. It's a slow, fascinating process:
They emerge from the water as cricket-like creatures, find a quiet spot on the rocks & proceed to poke their heads out of their skins & crawl out of themselves. Their wings are nothing but buds & their tails are still short & thick. After a long, patient observation, the wings & tails begin to fill out, literally growing & forming before our eyes. Color appears, & somehow, magically, they develop these crystal-clear slips of stained glass that will eventually hold them up in the sky.
Maybe more fascinating is the fact that many of them don't make it to the "perfect-form" of dragonfly or damselfly. If they emerge from the water on a particularly wavy or windy day, those sweet wings will stick to each other or bend or otherwise form in a way that doesn't allow them to fly. Sometimes we will "save" these bugs, picking them up & bringing them to a flower pot or laying them in the blueberry bushes. And sometimes they become food for the ducks. It's a reminder that life happens, it's not completely in our hands, there are mysteries & reasons way bigger than our understanding. And there's no doubt that they're all miracles, all totally perfect. I wonder about that desire to "save" things. Is it a form of compassion or a form of judgement that "something's wrong." Maybe nothing's wrong. Maybe it is.
We just try to stay awake to the wonder.
Bustin' His Rump, Earnin' His Keep
- Get to work making our home a home. De-rock the beach. Set up our offices to work. Unearth old clothes & fill the dressers. Move around mattresses & make our beds. Jump in to that cold, clean water & wash the plane away.