“The woods call to us with a hundred voices…” L.M. Montgomery
Hi lovelies! I’m writing you today from my sickbed where I’ve been hunkering down for the past couple of days as I weather the latest virus to come my way. Good heavens.I cannot wait for the day that my dear ol’ self does NOT put out the welcome mat for every illness that moseys past.
Before this latest beastie invaded, I was feeling better and stronger by the day. And one glorious but cold morning I hopped out of bed before sunrise, determined to watch the sun come up from the woods behind our house.
I bundled up to the hilt, grabbed my camera and called my dog Luna and headed out through the fields just as the sun inched over the horizon.
One moment the world was gray and shadowed and the next it was a golden fairy land.
I kept stopping in my tracks and sighing happily. I still can’t believe that this is my home, my very own spot in this world. How I love it.
The light dazzled my eyes and buoyed my spirits. The exertion soon made the cold a fleeting memory and each intake of breath was clean, crisp, and invigorating.
Luna was in heaven, leaping and dashing about, startling kangaroos, wriggling with happiness every time she raced back to me.
Soon I reached the shelter of the bush.
It was exquisitely peaceful in there, quiet and solemn as each dip and hollow awaited the arrival of the sun.
I loved being just one step ahead of the sunrise, watching the golden light slip around tree trunks and through grasses.
Some moments of illumination glowed so brightly I felt like I was in a different world. I wouldn’t have been one bit surprised to see fairies dancing or woodland creatures sitting down to a morning cuppa.
I hiked down to the dark part of the bush and settled myself down against a fallen log to watch the sun rise over this last bit of darkness.
It was lovely sitting there in the shadows, alone in the forest, with time to think about things that sometimes get shunted to the side in the busyness of feeding goats and writing articles and trying to keep on top of laundry and new recipes and medieval projects.
I know I won’t always be sickly (at least I hope not!!), but I am now, and I’m finally in a place of peace about that. It’s OK to be a slow-mover, a tugboat, as my friend Mozzie calls it. Now is not a time for grand plans and massive to-do lists. Nope, these are Tugboat Days where I focus on one thing at a time.
That’s how I get through each day – especially the awful, pain-filled ones – I just do one thing. I put away the dishes Bear washed. Then rest. I put the fixings for curry in the crock pot. Then rest. Write an article, rest, edit photos, rest, put laundry on the line, rest. That’s how it has to be right now. And the funny part is, I’m getting more done than I ever did when I was running around like a crazy woman.
Maybe because I’m doing the things that really matter. I don’t have the strength or energy to get bogged down in extra stuff. My days are distilled down to The Most Important.
And you know what? I quite like it. I’m learning to thrive as a crawler through life, as a tugboat woman. Going slower gives me time to really take in each experience, to notice things that would otherwise be a blur, to be able to deal with small issues before they become big ones.
I know I’m not the only one going through Tugboat Days. Some of you dear folks are also slowed by illness, others by children, tight finances, relational upheaval, all of the above. If you’re in Tugboat Days, I just wanted to assure you that you’re not alone, that it’s not going to be like this forever. It’s OK to move slowly, to putter away at the things you can handle and let the others go until you’re able to tackle them. It’s OK. And if you ever need a shoulder to cry on, I’m only an email away. xo
As I sat in my shady hollow, the sun crept closer and closer, shimmering through grass heads and leaves until finally it burst through in wondrous splendor.
Wishing you a beautiful week. xo