Bare trees – Photo: L. Weikel

Eve of Gratitude

I’d heard a forecast that today and tomorrow, Thanksgiving, were going to be marked by high winds, winds that could wreak havoc on trees and power lines. As the day progressed and I watched charcoal colored clouds crowd into the sky from the north, I braced for a shift. Only a splatter of rain made an appearance, though; it came and went so fast I almost thought I’d imagined it. But no wind. Nor a drop in temperature. The day, while overcast, was almost balmy.

It’s nighttime now and everyone in this house is in bed except me. About an hour ago, the wind chimes started clattering. Gusts started huffing at our shutters, rearranging the furniture still on our porch. And as Goddess is my witness, as I was typing that last sentence, our massive wooden front door blew open.

A Whole New Perspective

Since I had to get up to close and lock it, I stood for a moment in the doorway, facing the road but (gratefully) not able to see it in the darkness. Oddly, the wind that had dramatically opened the door was not blowing from the south. Standing there, I was not buffeted by any wind whatsoever. But I could hear it swirling above and around by listening to the trees that surround our home.

I could sense if not see the older, thinning pines that line the property across from us waving their top branches frantically, as if they were evergreen head-bangers.

I expected the temperature to be much colder than it was this afternoon, but it is not. In fact, it’s so mild, I walked outside in bare feet, just to immerse myself in the wildness for a moment, the door blowing open acting as an invitation to join the dance. A snap and a clatter caused me to run inside to fetch a flashlight. A decent sized branch – big enough to get snagged under a passing car  – lay in the center of the road. I tossed it to the side and returned to my post (literally and figuratively).

So now I find I’ve lost the thread of where I was going with this at the outset.

Nothing That’s Not Been Said Before

I know I was going to mention a few of the things for which I am grateful, possibly some of the more obscure aspects of my life. Certainly nothing that’s not been said before. But now I find most thought has been swept away.

My eyes close as I listen to the wind sweeping the fallen leaves across the lawn, yanking at those that tenaciously hold on to the branches of the maples, cherries, and ashes that lean in protectively.

It was dark when I went outside just now. New moon dark. The black of the night sky rich with possibilities, like moist, fecund soil, the old being swept away to make room for the birth and nurturing of fresh ideas, dreams, and aspirations.

I’m sitting here feeling an abounding expansiveness of gratitude. How happy and grateful I am to have a warm home that can stand against the wild winds and keep me and my loved ones (two and four legged especially) sheltered while we dream our dreams, whatever they may be and wherever they may take us.

P.S.: Our opossum visited yet again this evening. That makes it four days in a row.

(T-730)