grateful sunday

Usually on Saturday I meditate on the week, but our Saturday was a continuation of the week--a day filled. Our Saturday was, in fact, OUR Saturday and it left little time for any kind of meditation. It was, however, mindful.

Jesse and I hiked Fillmore Glen this Saturday and spoiled ourselves with a day where work, money, anything that felt "overly real" was out of mind. We let ourselves look at moss, watch water spiders, and pick up rocks.

It seemed appropriate that the day--the weekend-started with waiting for a duck to cross the road. We did wait, and we looked for his family to follow. After the rain all week, the hops and witch hazel are happily growing and the ducks are all over stopping cars and waddling across the street. A good reminder that time isn't ours and time isn't something we can control. A good reminder to wait and take a few breaths.

These were the first flowers we saw. We saw them while we were enjoying coffee and some breakfast sandwiches in the car, in the parking lot. We saw them and how they reacted in the sun and without the sun---not unlike us, some seasonal reactions to light and lack of light. 

It was pretty lucky to be out before the sun was full sun, to be out before 9 am and to see how the light started to come through leaves and trees. It was lucky because, of course, we got lost driving. A good kind of lost, a lost that let us go around the lake and see some pretty small towns and start to understand just how small a small town can be in this area.

Probably, the back pack was over planning.

I'm pretty excited that we not only got to see this fall from the bottom, but we saw it from the top and then we snuck over some fences to see it up and close--to see it and get a little wet. The water tasted amazing and we found those grooves and deeper spots to put our hands in and find smoother, round pebbles. 

Kind of an idyllic weekend. More than kind of, kindred to the idea of perfection.

There are a lot of ups and downs to our move and there are days that we've been regretting the decision, wondering if we've walked away from things like money and materialism that we can't quite get here. And then there are whole and perfect moments that we can't remember from before. There are dried flowers in our books, oregano and mint all over our garden, and days that seem elongated and immeasurable. We are practicing living between each moment, breathing a little louder, and letting ourselves recognize how lovely all of these between spaces our.