With each day that passes this house becomes more of a home. Projects are completed, plans for the future are made and a host of activity ensues. The kids are settling into spaces and making them their own, developing habitual patterns of movement as they go about their every day. Amanda is busy in the kitchen or the studio or, if not in one of those two places, it's a safe bet she's close to the woodstove with needles blazing. The cats laze about inside, finding spots of sunlight or heaps of blankets in which to lounge before heading to their outside haunts for more of the same.
Yesterday, as I was traipsing through the barn on some type of quest, I felt the wind from the storm that was raging outside blow across my neck. I stopped to smile at the drift of snow across the sill where a window is missing.
I stood there as the howling gusts whipped across the roof and shook the heavy barn doors into a deep rhythmic thumping. I saw where snow had blown through a crack in the siding onto my wood pile. As I stepped out into the tumult, I could hear the old maple by the house groaning as if it was ready to let go of something heavy. I moved the car out from under it. The world was a frenzied rush of flakes and drifts and swaying trees but rooted somehow in a quiet solitude. The animals were all tucked into their respective shelters and happy to be staying put. Neighbors seemed to be following suit and the road sat in unusual stillness with several inches of snow laying untracked since the last pass of a plow. The house sat strong as warm light poured from the windows and a brief hint of smoke from the fire struck my nose before shifting away. As I trudged through the accumulations and carried on with my regularly scheduled efforts, a sense of connection to this piece of land passed through me. Like being let in on a secret, I was the lone witness to these extraordinary events. Darkness was falling as I finished shoveling off the steps and the treetops continued to rattle into each other as day blended into night. I shook the snowy wetness off my clothes and headed back inside.
I stepped from the frigid and mysterious quiet into a home warm with fire and the smell of fresh bread, ready to be dipped into hot soup. Hungry children scampered loudly about as a busy Mama readied food for all. I made my way across the room with an armload of firewood and a wonderfully happy heart. I loaded the stove with fresh sticks and took a warm seat next to the kitty.
It was a good storm.