Domestic bliss, Braiding Sweetgrass, & Funny photos
It’s warm in the mountains this morning. There’s no air conditioning in our new house, so I wake up to the sound of nothing apart from the slight breeze from a ceiling fan, just the way I like it. I know it will be hot soon, so I start opening doors and windows on every floor to let the breeze in. Suddenly, the whole house is filled with birdsong, nature’s call and response. I stop to listen for a minute, then two, then ten. I walk out onto the porch and make my way to the kitchen to start my coffee ritual.
From the kitchen, I take in the sight of my empty living room and notice how easy it is to focus on what’s outside, so many new leaves have unfurled in the garden since yesterday, whole window panes filled with green where before there was only brown. I stand at the sink and watch the hummingbird feeders like a hawk, praying to them, asking them to come play with me like they have every day this week. I watch one come close, wait for the bumblebee to leave, look my way, then scatter. I trust he’ll be back as soon as I turn. I know this dance well.
It doesn’t escape me how I’m seeing my surroundings with new eyes right now, romanticizing everything, feeling more grateful for simple things I hadn’t noticed before — pine balsam’s smell on the breeze, a sunbeam so bright on the surface of my coffee I have to stop and stare, the nose-exhales of someone I love finding something funny on their phone in the other room. I know I’m only able to see, smell, and hear this way because I’ve spent the past 8 months without a home to call my own. I know it can’t last forever. Life moves and changes that way, domestic bliss turning into drudgery, the beautiful becoming mundane. But I hope I can always find a bit of wonder again when I try. I hope I remember to look for it. With every fiber of my being, I hope I don’t have to search for any more new homes to find it.
I sip my coffee and reach for my notebook when I hear a sleepy teenager plodding down the stairs. I leave my computer closed on the counter and make a second coffee. I hug him and hear words start pouring from my lips too fast, violently breaking my quiet domestic bliss. I tell myself to stay quiet. Let him take the lead. He does for a few minutes and then he’s gone. It’s just me again. Here, writing, listening, watching, and wondering.
I start a message to my book club friends, sharing five little things I’ve found joy in this week (with all the links) ⤵
Something good to read. . .
Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer on audio, just one chapter a day. It’s perfect for early summer. It’s delicious on audio. And it’s only $3.49 on Libro right now.
Something beautiful. . .
I bought these Weck tulip jars to try to help me get our new kitchen organized, and I’m loving them so much I can hardly bear to put anything in them (link here).
Something worth considering. . .
May is Mental Health Awareness Month — something worth considering for those of us who struggle to stay mentally healthy from time to time, for the people who love us, and for those lucky souls who have never suffered from mental illness, too. Here’s a link to a post I wrote about this a few years back called “Books That Heal: A Mental Health Reading List”.
Something to think about. . .
The older I get, the more I’ve been noticing how easy it is to tell myself it’s time to avoid mirrors and cameras. The more I avoid them, the more I dread catching a glimpse of my appearance. The more I dislike my appearance, the harder it is to love myself. But I want to love myself, even when I’m overweight and my hair is stringy and my face looks droopy. So I’ve decided to look in the mirror and take more photos of myself (and not just from high angles). I think it will help. Want to join me?
Something funny. . .
The photo of me at the bottom of this message is the funniest thing I’ve seen in weeks. I texted it to my husband, and he now uses it as a “photomoji” response to almost every text message I send him. I hope its ridiculous/scary weirdness brings you a belly laugh like it does to me every time I see it. Enjoy!
💛
Wherever you are this morning, whatever’s inside your heart and outside your window, I hope you’re thriving. I hope you find joy around every corner. And I hope you know, I’m here.
All my love,
Celeste
