Still. Mom remembers how loverly it felt when snow blanketed hilltops and EVERY PLACE, even the San Juan Islands, promising stillness of all city sound:only the honking of Canada geese, the cry of the bald eagles bringing branches over the pond to bolster their nest, and - one special year -when wild swans flew in during a two-week snowstorm and mom would ski to them, listening in on their pre-dawn and dusk gab-fests...for although geese honk, swans are different. They conversate and gather together to gossip about the swans on the other side of the lake, and each offers his or her opinions on how well the eagles are keeping up their nest, the color of the sky, the crispness of the air, and whether or not they really will fly farther south once the two-week blizzard has blown through. Swans actually talk in a language mom found captivating. And she was able to ski real close to them...almost into them! But we're pretty sure we've already told THAT story...
Do we still miss our old home?
Every day.
Are we grateful for where we live now? Bathed in light, only a block from the best lattes in town? Within walker-distance of everything from the Post Office to the Art Gallery? A cheery smile from every merchant? Knowing that Avellino's vegan, gluten-free baker will save mom's faves until she gets there on weekends?
Every day.
Does mom need to get out of bed and savor life by embracing the impending snowstorm by finding flashlights, radios, batteries, cold-weather boots, and the accouterments that accompany power outages?
Every day. Although right now would be good, too.She only has one more sick day left before the storm...think she better get on with it!
