Finding peaceful moments...

Our neighborhood fireworks display was amazing…from what I could hear. I stayed inside to comfort The Beasts. Shania actually slept through the noise this year, but the pups were emotional wrecks. Collectively, they weigh 260 lbs.—holding wasn’t an option, so I sat on the floor, promising July 4th only happens once a year. I didn’t mention New Year’s Eve...it just seemed too cruel...

Yesterday, the kids had smoke bombs, sparklers and other small incendiary devices left, so the revelry continued on a lesser scale. I spent the day pruning the backyard—I prefer the word sculpting—continually reassuring The Beasts that life as they knew it wasn’t ending. They weren’t happy campers, but survived to bark another day.

I mentally blocked the fireworks’ noise and immersed myself in our back-yard plant life. I love pruning—it’s peaceful, purposeful, artistic, and I can enjoy it for a long time when I’ve finished. Housework is soooo not that way…

Sculpting the trees, enjoying the textures and colors, I realized how seldom I experience truly peaceful moments. I used to spend every Sunday morning at a local wildlife refuge, but once A. joined competitive soccer, Sundays became game days.

The incongruity of fireworks whistling, popping, while wind sighed musically through the trees, provided valuable insight. A friend recently told me that he wished his life was simpler, less complicated…I know exactly how he feels.

More often than not, it seems like there’s no time for “simple.” And there isn’t, not in the context it used to be. But in the context of my life now, maybe it is as simple as closing my eyes for a few minutes, listening to the harmony of nature, breathing the fragrance of lavender… in the sanctity of my own backyard.