Posts tagged ‘long winters’

blue and green

Today I wore sunglasses.

That may not sound like a big deal to those of you in Mexico (Kris), or California (Mom), or Florida (Angela), but it is a big deal here. Our beautiful valley houses three rivers and is protected by snow capped mountains, but what that means in February is GREY. The mist, and clouds butt up against those peaks and can’t get out, can’t get swept away by breezes. So much of the winter is spent under a low ceiling of grey. It is this ceiling that makes winter here feel so long, at least for me. I was raised in Santa Cruz, California, which sees it’s fair share of grey in the form of fog, but even on the worst of days that fog burns off by afternoon. And the rest of the days are sunny sunny sunny. So, more than the cold, it’s the color of winter that gets me down.

But not today! If I were someone that knew the lyrics to songs I would have sung that Blue skies shining on me…! song. But I don’t remember lyrics to songs and instead wore sunglasses. Aaaah.

Echo and I meandered around town. She in just a t-shirt. (These born-and-bred Montana kids are truly impervious.) I still wore a coat, but it was unzipped! And my scarf, hat, and gloves were shoved somewhere inside the stroller. With that sun on my face I had an almost endless supply of patience while Echo walked at her own pace, practiced running, and collected giant rocks to load into the stroller. We paused, oh, maybe, every 8 feet? But what did I care? I had sunshine.

We visited Papa at work for some kisses then slowly made our way to a dingy pet shop across town, for our third visit of the week. It seems I have inadvertently fallen in love with a Quaker Parrot. Me; who has never felt any attraction to any feathered friend. Me; who does not have $600(!) extra dollars laying around to spend on yet another animal. And me; who yearns for more space, in our active household. Yeah, that me.

But all I can think about is that bird. It’s strange.

We brought him a cracker, which is almost too cliche I know, but it seems that parrots indeed do love crackers. He said ‘thank you”.

I’m not sure what to do with this bird crush. I wonder if I should add him to my life map or, just trust. Trust that his path, whatever it may be, is the right one for him. Trust that if I am meant to be his human, then all the pieces will come together without my obsessing over it. I guess having a crush on a seemingly unattainable bird is like wanting anything in life that isn’t yours yet, or even yours to want. Wanting is hard.

Wether it’s a bird, more money, a bigger house, a different partner, more time, it’s hard. Tonight Echo wanted the first two eggs from the frying pan. She didn’t want fried eggs, and she didn’t want them with crushed black pepper, which is what these eggs, destined for Papa’s plate, were like. She just simply wanted the first two eggs. Who’s to say her want of the first eggs is any different than me wanting a ten year old parrot from a dingy pet store? Equally irrational. Equally strong.

I wanted to dismiss her feelings about the eggs, just like I want to dismiss my feelings about the bird, but I knew it wouldn’t help. Instead I held her while she wept and, soon, scrambling her own eggs eclipsed the pain of not getting the first eggs.

I don’t know what will eclipse my feelings about that parrot, and not sure an eclipse is necessary. I’ve got room on my person to carry the feelings around for awhile. They can ride in my pocket, whisper to me at  night while I sleep, and simply live with me. I’ve learned enough about feelings by now not to expect anything of them, not to shove them out, cover them up, or replace them. And no, it doesn’t make any sense to love that green bird. But I do.

Meanwhile I will enjoy every last ray of light the sun has to offer me. I’ll bask in the beauty of that blue sky, enjoying the company of a bright little girl, and thinking of a particular green bird.


February 23, 2010 at 8:49 pm 2 comments

i feel… fortunate

We have somewhere we go, a lot. It’s somewhere to be that isn’t our house, and isn’t our freezing cold yard. It’s also somewhere we can just be, and our kids can be too. It’s a narrow cafe in the back of an herb shop, and it is always packed to the gills with regulars. We eat bagels, drink tea, and more tea. People watch, eavesdrop, table hop.

Our girls have quite literally grown up here. Their comfort level is such that they join others at their booths for conversation, comic reading, drawing, or chess games. Sometimes our family is mixed into three separate tables, as each finds their interest of the day.

I have complained about these long winters (and they are), this small isolated town (comparatively speaking it is). But the winters drive us indoors to this warm place, and the smallness means we are familiar with most people we meet.

It is a heart blossoming feeling to watch a child run into the arms of a tattooed, lip/ear/cheek/ pierced twenty something, or into the arms of a sixty something artist, or into the arms of a forty something clairvoyant, arms she has known her whole life.

They know her.

This is fortune.


November 22, 2009 at 5:00 am 2 comments

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