Creeks and Clouds

Whew... These last few weeks have been doozies. If you read my previous post, you know that my husband was away on business for a couple weeks. The week before he left we all had head colds that he brought back from the trip he took the week before that... Are you confused yet? This time we all got sick before he returned. 

It happened this way. I took my children to my nephew's baptism the weekend before last. The sweet thing was on antibiotics and had a nasty, croupy-sounding cough. We seem to have caught his ick, or maybe it and some others. This plague includes terrible sinus pressure, post-nasal drip, sneezing, running nose, sore throat, raspy barking coughing, multi-day fever, and...diarrhea (not fun for a mum with a tot in diapers.) 

Since my dear one had been gone for a stretch, I already had things lined up to do this week, so it's been a bit hectic in other regards too. I had a badly needed chiropractor appt. with a new chiro. I spent 3 hours there and didn't get any relief. I took my daughter to the optometrist as she had been getting headaches when she is riding in the car. (Our family's been cycling through this illness, and both of us were symptom-free at that point.) He dilated her eyes and her pupils stayed dilated for 24 hours, so she was very uncomfortable. He also recommended reading glasses, despite telling me that her eyesight was "fine, her muscles just get tired." I went to a new dentist (because all three of my fillings had fallen out and need to be replaced. Ouch.) I also had my vehicle at the mechanic's and found out that I need three new engine mounts, some of which are hydraulic... pricey! (And it's still at the shop.) And my husband has been stringing goat fence every spare minute this week.

I'm feeling rotten by now, too. And as you can imagine, I'm awfully tired of wiping noses, changing explosive diapers, washing hands and faces, tending children all night, listening to whining, ministering to a bunch of "grumpy rumps," and worrying, especially after weeks of "flying solo". Yesterday I was so worn out and testy that my husband had pity and kicked me out for a walk while he bathed "the littles." I moseyed past the barn with the intention of having a look at the fencing project. But the sound of running water lured me into the woods. The goat decided to come too.

A lovely little creek, choked with leaves, trickled over shelving rock and burbled under tumbled stones in the bottom of a  ravine lined with ferns and mosses of vivid green. We followed the creek along the gully for a time until the fallen trees across it were too numerous, and either too tall to climb over or too low to duck under without getting messy. Then we struck off up the side of the gulch and down into the next ravine, crossing its creek and following it until we reached the meandering, deep banked stream that cuts through the valley below the dam. 

The goat, who is a nearly 16 years old (exceedingly old for a pygmy) was having an awfully good time. She ran down the steep inclines and climbed nimbly up the other sides. She nosed here and there, and munched a bit of this and that along the way. She even leaped from bank to bank across the output from the dam. 

Once we climbed the back of the dam I startled about 15 ducks from the water. They immediately took to the wing. At first glance they looked like mallards, but they made a strange whistling call as they whirred away that I did not recognize.

The pair of Canada geese were still there. They swam off into one of the inlets, but did not take flight. They seem to be settling down to raise a gaggle. I'll have to look for their nest soon.

The walk back to the barn with the goat through one of the hay field was a bit humorous, because the goat cavorted and ran this way and that, enjoying her halter-free hike. I savored the shifting clouds framed by the fringe of trees. I delighted in the last light of day silhouetting the trees against the cerulean sky. 

These moments of calm amidst the harmonious cluttered chaos of family life refill me and lift me. They slow my soul when I get preoccupied, enervated, worried, and agitated. They humble me and make me grateful. I commune with the Beautiful and True in a sort of silent prayer of thanksgiving.

For me, prayer is a surge of the heart, it is a simple look towards Heaven, it is a cry of recognition and of love, embracing both trial and joy. -St Therese of Lisieux