Being alone makes me introspective; how could it not? I think about things I don’t normally have time to think about, when there’s no pull of constant obligation tugging at my sleeve. I wonder what I’m doing here, what I’ve done, if it was worth it. I’m not done yet, not by far, but sometimes I wonder what exactly I am planning to do with this “one wild and precious life”.
(…time passes while I go and read Mary Oliver poems online…)
Dichotomy at play: years of experience fill me up and yet there are so many things I haven’t done, so many things I haven’t seen, so many places I haven’t been. Good thing there is nothing but time to begin doing, seeing, going. These are things I’ve noticed lately: flocks of greylag geese resting in the farmlands on their way north, the revolving white knife slash of rotating wind turbine blades at night above their two glowing red air traffic lights, the pollarding of the willow trees; the chocolate clay of the overturned planting-ready fields. How fat the pheasants are. How big the rooks that rob the bird feeders of seeds leaving the little brown jobs to sadly peck at the peanuts that are too big and hard for them.
The sky is solid clear endless blue at day, with sun, and solid clear endless black at night, with stars. My breath shows; it’s COLD out there. Despite the plowing and the pollarding, spring is not yet come. Everything is restless, straining forward to spring. Everything is swelling with anticipation. The light wakes me increasingly early, and the birds.
I am fine-tuning my life. I am finding it hard to boost myself above the pleasantly flowing murmur of a routine that suits me but doesn’t exactly spark. Most of the time I think that’s fine. I’m content with the good things I have, the pleasures I can indulge in and the friends I connect with. I don’t crave adrenalin rushes or surprise parties or major changes. There’s something to be said for being happy in the moment and hoping that it will last as long as possible. The biggest shocks in my life right now are the startling pop of static electricity every time I remove my winter coat. I slap at my computer to get it over with every morning; that arcing sting.
There is still frost in the mornings and it’s too early for pansies or even for readying pots for spring flowers. This is Sweden after all; they’ll freeze or drown if I jump the gun. But I’m ready. We’re all ready. We’re all tired of waiting. We want to get out there and see the world bloom.
Edited to add: Just to keep me humble, the universe answered me with snow this morning. I awoke to over an inch on the ground, a blizzard in progress and totally white skies. *sigh*