quick honesty

It's technically day three of my project, but I'm writing for yesterday. How do real bloggers do it, the ones who post every day, at about the same time? My days don't go like that. 

My days go like this: wake up when the gentle sounds of Eowyn or I tossing and turning bring the cat to our closed door. He cries relentlessly, until Eowyn wakes fully and goes to get him. If it's not light out yet, I tell her I will get up when I can see the sun through my window. Today I actually fell back to sleep, despite my cough and congestion, and then woke, fully rested, at 7:45.

Clean up last night's dinner dishes, left out because I fell asleep with Eowyn at 8 pm. Eat toast, drink tea, sweep up the cat food and the feathers he plays with and the threads from yesterday's sewing project. 

Plan our day: another trip to the ski hill with our borrowed snowshoes, a picnic lunch. We had so much fun there yesterday evening -- so great to realize that this far into March, there is still abundant snow within a 20-minute drive. Here in town all is brown and dry.

Amid the sleepy chaos of the morning, my mind is swirling with thoughts, and I try to decide which of them are worthy to keep. Thinking about Nova Scotia and our land there, and the way spring brings so much possibility when you actually know what's ahead of you: a garden to till, a Mayfair to plan, and many, many beaches to visit in decreasing layers of clothing.

Missing Ottawa and the ease my social life had there. A walk to the grocery store leads to dinner plans with friends you haven't seen all winter. Music erupts on the corners in the market and the sun shines and the city hums and you get the sense that, vibrant as it all is, life is even bigger than this. And you are a part of it.

I miss feeling a part of something. And with that sentiment, I'll leave you with my tidbit of inspiration today, gleaned from the latest issue of Taproot magazine:

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of Nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy."

-- George Bernard Shaw

Eowyn, Spring 2011, Mahone Bay, NS