Day Twenty
Today was another Spring milestone--the opening of our little lake!
It was a glorious day. The temperature peaked at 69 degrees, with abundant sun and the sound of Spring peepers growing into a chorus that can be heard through the walls and windows of our house. Of course, when those windows were opened after lunch, their song echoed throughout the house. It is truly the sound of awakening, of being roused from sleep, and I know the trees are listening.
On our afternoon walk with Penny, the barred owls joined the song, and more than one pileated woodpecker added a few solo bars for good measure.
It is the live concert event of the year, every year, and I feel so blessed to be working from home, where I have a front-row seat--no matter where I sit, it seems.
I took my place in one of my favorite seats, at the hill's edge by the lake, to laugh at the last portion of ice, stubborning attempting to fight fate. From here, I spotted some migrating hooded mergansers in the water, paddling about and splashing each other in the cold water. I looked at the familiar spots where painted turtles gather, and wondered how long it would be before they make their first appearance.
I try to capture this moment, the opening of the lake, each year. This year was no disappointment.
As I turned around to walk back up the hill, I saw the sun waving at me. And I had one of those moments when, maybe as we all do, I wondered how the view could be so stunning in both directions. I thought I was drinking in what was in front of me--the new water, the end of the ice of Winter. But when I turned around, I saw before me the sun, headed West, waiting to rouse others for the next day.
We marked the day, simply, in proper style for the first true t-shirt day of the year. Burgers, beans, and a cold beer (it is also national beer day) were, I thought, the cherry on top of what had been already a near-perfect 12 hours of daylight.
But as my children begged, and received some ice cream, we looked out at the rising moon and enjoyed the grand finale: a "pink" super moon. The last holdout of ice sits, trembling, beneath it as it is reflected on the water.
It's all too easy at times to get lost in all this beauty, and to forget that we are here as a family because a pandemic has placed us here, at this time where we would otherwise be at work and school.
It compels me to think about how I really need to open my eyes, and be more attentive to the beauty that is around me in every place, and every moment.
Spring has arrived each year that we have called our rural Collegeville paradise "home." Despite what is surrounding us all, I feel like this one may be the most beautiful of them all. Maybe it's because I am here to absorb so much more of it than I usually would. Maybe it's because of how well it distracts me from the news. Maybe I am overthinking this, and just need to stop qualifying how and why I enjoy it so much.
Tomorrow will bring more delights. And I will be ready.
