I haven't gone on many of the walks since Gator left. I haven't felt it in my heart. I've missed the nice morning chats with Hubs, but my hands felt empty. And honestly, not rushing to get dressed in the mornings hasn't been hard to take. Today, I decided to grab my coffee and stroll along. It felt good. Fresh air swirling around. Conversations about my little old man. It was a great start.
So great that we decided to sit out back with our coffee. We kept sitting when the rain started falling, we have a huge umbrella, we weren't quick enough to keep the fabric seats dry, but we still had the nice metal ones.
With no where to rush off to, no hurrying about needing to happen, we sat and enjoyed the rain. Hubs can't take silence, so of course there was music, luckily it was soft enough to listen to the pounding rain, the critters seeking shelter. The smell of the rain, petrichor (as Facebook was kind enough to teach me today), surround us and filling our senses.
At first I was feeling a bit bummed that the beautiful morning was being stolen. It took a moment to realize that it was a gift. A chance to slow down even more, to avoid going out and to absorb even more this precious gift of time.
Yesterday we lazily spent the morning doing a bit of nothingness a few chores, relaxing, puttering about. I was feeling terribly unproductive at first. I'm so used to my rush around lifestyle that I have forgotten so many things that bring me joy. And the reason that they do.
Cooking.
I have completely gotten away from creating meals, we eat out far too often. I had relegated it to the status of more work. Something I simply didn't want to do. Forgetting that it not only nourishes my body, but also my soul. I love to create, to follow my heart about what to put together to make a meal.
While the Hubs took a short morning nap, I tidied the kitchen and allowed my mind to wander. Rinsing out a container of mustard for recycling got my brain to questioning why I was buying something that people have been making (quite successfully... it's still around isn't it) for thousands of years. Digging through the pantry, yielded almost all of the ingredients.
My desire to support local businesses, led to a "field trip" to St. Charles. I needed a local spice shop. Besides I was curious to the level of the river. Hubs and I had a delightful day wandering the historic center, full of small, locally owned shops. The spice shop not only didn't disappoint, but had everything I was in search of. For far less than a jar of mustard would have cost.
We wandered the river front, in awe of the island where the river front grounds used to be. Watching the river rushing past, currents strong and circling. Imagining the changing topography below. What would the riverfront look like when this current flooding ceased?
We weren't in a particular hurry to get anywhere, so we took the long way home. We traveled a few back roads, having no idea where we were heading, just knowing that we were close, but far. A few turns down roads with the fullest cornfields I remember seeing in a long time led us to West Alton. I forgot to take pictures, I was too immersed in the moment of looking at the utter devastation.
Home after home, barns, churches, businesses either gone or destroyed. Glaring yellow and orange stickers on all of them. We didn't stop to read them. We didn't need to. All of these buildings had been either partially or completely submerged. The piles of personal belongings, the bits and pieces that make a home or business piled on the sides of the road. Debris from yards, trees, garages, mud swept away to allow the road to reappear. The signs warning of camera's, looters will be shot, etc. And fires as people burned the trees that had fallen and the items that could not be salvaged.
My heart hurt. And then I realized that I could definitely relate to these folks. They lost everything, yet there they were on a hot summer day cleaning it out, starting over, planting their fields and rebuilding their lives. I am that kind of person. I will always roll up my sleeves and start over. I don't believe in a no win situation. Now, in all frankness, I would probably clean it up and sell it. Moving somewhere less likely to encounter that type of disaster again.
As we slowly meandered back to roads that hadn't been flooded and lives not disrupted it seemed like we were moving between worlds. The untouched lives were so close to those destroyed. A distance of a few miles. It was very humbling.
We live nearer the Meramac river and this year we didn't flood as badly as the Mississippi and Missouri, she's high, overflowing banks in many area's. But for a change not taking homes and businesses with her. I wonder when we humans will realize that mother nature is going to have her way, it doesn't matter what we want.
The heat and humidity of the day had zapped Hubs and I and hunger was calling us home. We are trying to not eat out, to enjoy home cooked meals and not rush. As he relaxed in his recliner, I started dinner. It's incredible how yummy simple meals at home are.
I also started that mustard. It will be ready today. It smelled wonderful, reminding me of the German mustard I grew up with. I made sure to get a mix of yellow and brown mustard seeds, I didn't want it as tame as the generic yellow mustard, I wanted something with a rich, warm flavor. I use it in many of my dressings and salads.
This slower morning has encouraged and enriched me. It is filling voids I didn't realize were there. Sunday drives, puttering in the kitchen, prepping my rocks for their final stage, even doing the laundry. They all feel like gifts right now. Nothing is rushed. If I want to sit and finish a baby blanket, I am not stealing time from something else, I am simply living.
This is an incredible feeling!
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