I lay awake again last night listening to the sounds of deep winter, which had returned after the brief hint of spring we had last week. The soothing hoot of an owl, undoubtedly warning its rivals to stay away from his territory, was interrupted by the sporadic yip of a coyote who was communicating the same sentiment, I'm sure.
As day broke, the hoots and yips gave way to the finches' chirps and the barking of the only-slightly-less-feral-than-the-coyote neighborhood dog.
She leaves today, I thought with a heavy heart.
I don't mean to be maudlin about it. After all, how sad can I be that my daughter is doing what she loves to do in a city that is as beautiful as Portland, Maine? It's hardly tragic, for heaven's sake.
My Twin once passed on a compliment to me that she had received from one of her patients. A very compassionate and loving family practice physician, My Twin has a large and diverse patient population, and has endeared herself to families from every culture in the world. I am so proud to be Her Twin.
One of her patients (Chinese, I think) had been visiting with her about a level of depression she felt about her recently emptied nest. The patient felt a bit guilty about admitting that the absence of her children, despite their successes, had caused such pain. My Twin assured her that she felt the same way, and had shed many tears herself over the geographical distance between herself (in Palo Alto, CA) and her daughter (in New York City).
"Oh, Doctor, you have the heart of an Asian mother," the patient had said with great sympathy to My Twin. "We love for our children to be close to us."
And so, she passed that comment on to me as I bemoaned the distance between myself and the Graceful One, and now we simply acknowledge as we commiserate that each of us has "the heart of an Asian mother." Somehow, it does help.
So on today's sojourn, I'll return to Portland with the Graceful One, though she won't see me. I'll walk across the street from her quaint little apartment, and take a hike around the back cove of Casco Bay, a beautiful 3.5 mile hike that is a microcosm of the entire state.
These pictures were taken last October at the end of a beautiful autumn season.
|Sometimes the smallest trees are the most interesting.|
|Beauty above and beauty below|
|I really have no idea what kind of birds (or ducks) these are,|
but they certainly enjoyed the marsh grass at the edge of the cove.
|I have done many meditations from this bench.|
|Graceful old homes line the opposite side of the street along the cove.|
|Peeking through the grass at the edge of the cove...yes, it's my blog header!|
|As lovely as the homes are, the trees dwarf and outshine them all.|
|Suddenly, the path takes you into a quiet, secluded forest glen.|
|When you break out of the forest, |
the pines and the sparkling blue water are there to greet you.
|A wise admonition is offered to those who take note|
of the message on a marble bench as you leave the trail.
The music choice was easy today, as it was the song that accompanied the dawning of the day (in my head, at least) today. Fittingly, it is a cloudy, gray day in Weldon Spring, with more rain turning to snow expected this afternoon.
But that's okay...I'm in Portland anyway.
I hope your day is filled with sunshine.