Reluctance
By Robert Frost

Out through the fields and the woods
And over the walls I have wended;
I have climbed the hills of view
And looked at the world, and descended;
I have come by the highway home,
And lo, it is ended.

The leaves are all dead on the ground,
Save those that the oak is keeping
To ravel them one by one
And let them go scraping and creeping
Out over the crusted snow,
When others are sleeping.

And the dead leaves lie huddled and still,
No longer blown hither and thither;
The last long aster is gone;
The flowers of the witch-hazel wither;
The heart is still aching to seek,
But the feet question 'Whither?'

Ah, when to the heart of man
Was it ever less than a treason
To go with the drift of things,
To yield with a grace to reason,
And bow and accept the end
Of a love or a season?

*****

No matter where I've lived, there have been seductive sights and sounds unique to the region/neighborhood.

I jump into this subject instead of humbly thanking all of you for your generous love and support and emails, because as I sit here in my delicious solitude, I'm savoring the sights and sounds in my new life. Fat drops of rain are tumbling from the trees - long after the passing storm. Crickets are rubbing an evening serenade. One can hear the wind coming from a great distance - ducking and weaving through the trees to reach my porch.

Celestial light is different here, too. I've lived on the plains where sun and moon are free to roam with little obstruction. I've lived in the mountains where silhouetted sunsets branded the peaks in glory. I've lived by the ocean and watched the sun's bubbling brilliance dive to other worlds - cymbals and other percussions booming in accompaniment. I've seen it all.

Sunset and sunrise are both quiet here, especially sunset, which yawns into a horizon not visible to my eyes. Sunrise, on the other hand, is a different thing. It is as quiet as the deer that tiptoe through my property each morning trying to go undetected. With their graceful stealth, they are as impossible to miss as the morning sunlight - as it, too, tiptoes through the trees. My property easily has thousands of trees with millions of leaves - for the time being anyway. Morning is clearly my favorite time. The sun sneaks through the trees like the creak of polished floorboards. Most of the light is gentle to eyes still trying to stretch awake. Then - zap - a spike of light will streak through the branches like a laser with a force as illuminating as my first cup of coffee.

Sounds are unique, too. Don't y'all have an archive of sounds? I seem to be most sentimental about sounds I've heard while the rest of the world was quiet. I can remember when I was a teenager and awoke each summer morning to the spray of water and the crunching sound of a big lumbering barrel tamping the clay tennis courts across the street from where I grew up. This was not a fancy-pants tennis club - the clubhouse was a shack with a coke machine. When the crunching ceased, it was my signal to jump from bed, don my tennis togs, and grab my racquet. Many years later, I lived on a golf course and would awaken in the middle of the night and listen to the rhythmic sounds of irrigation on the fairways. Recently, roosters have delighted my ears. I love the sound of roosters. And when I lived in Laguna Beach, I'd lie in bed and listen to the complaints of seals and the crash of waves.

What are your sunrises and sunsets like? What sounds are forever recorded in your heart?


****


I'd planned to post a mile-by-mile journal about my solo cross-country trip, but ya know, I'm more in the mood to look forward these days. The journey was difficult - emotionally and physically. The elements challenged me each mile with blinding rain, pea soup fog, and perilous detours. And Jesus, Joseph, and Mary - I didn't realize that I-40 was a major corridor for truckers! I drove by Braille and instinct. At one point I beseeched the universe, "What else!" Then realized I was in Kansas and the sky was black like a tornado was about to drop down. Geesh!

I arrived safely in Kansas City and stayed with my son and his adorable wife and sons. To my way of thinking, there's nothing sweeter than a happy and promising young family. My heart is sated with cozy memories - especially cuddling with my youngest grandson and reading a bedtime story. Because their lives are busy-busy, I got busy-busy in the kitchen and cooked like a happy zephyr bustling with joy. Cooking equates love and nurturing for me. It was a very satisfying visit.


My door, my heart is always open to visitors. But I warn you - you may never want to leave - and that would suit me just fine.

Peace, love and granola.