Sunday, March 19, 2017
9:51 AM | Posted by
Unknown
My grandson, Nathan, will be turning one next month. Yesterday I was babysitting downstairs and just keeping the boys entertained while mom and dad were away on errands.
I was sitting in the recliner right next to the living room table. The box of wipes was sitting next to me. This brand of wipes has a button on top that releases the lid, which flips up when the button is pushed.
While I sat there and watched the boys play, Nathan crawled over to the table and reached over to try to get into the wipes. He likes to empty the contents on the floor. He carefully eyed me as he slowly inched his fingers closer and closer to the button.
When he finally pushed the button the lid flipped up and my hand shot out and pushed it back down. I had a grin on my face. He looked at the box, then at me, then back at the box. Slowly he pressed the button until the latch was released. Again, my hand shot out and pressed it down into place.
This time he paused before his hand darted out and pushed the button. I looked surprised, laughed then slowly pushed the lid down. Now the game was afoot. We spent the next five or so minutes trying to fake each other out to see who could either get the lid to go up or to stay down.
We laughed and cheered like we were keeping score or something. Our joy lasted until Daniel couldn't bear being left out any longer and came over to try to take over the game. Nathan quickly lost interest and crawled off to do something else.
It was a blissful five minutes as almost any five minute span I have ever had. Thanks Nathan.
I was sitting in the recliner right next to the living room table. The box of wipes was sitting next to me. This brand of wipes has a button on top that releases the lid, which flips up when the button is pushed.
While I sat there and watched the boys play, Nathan crawled over to the table and reached over to try to get into the wipes. He likes to empty the contents on the floor. He carefully eyed me as he slowly inched his fingers closer and closer to the button.
When he finally pushed the button the lid flipped up and my hand shot out and pushed it back down. I had a grin on my face. He looked at the box, then at me, then back at the box. Slowly he pressed the button until the latch was released. Again, my hand shot out and pressed it down into place.
This time he paused before his hand darted out and pushed the button. I looked surprised, laughed then slowly pushed the lid down. Now the game was afoot. We spent the next five or so minutes trying to fake each other out to see who could either get the lid to go up or to stay down.
We laughed and cheered like we were keeping score or something. Our joy lasted until Daniel couldn't bear being left out any longer and came over to try to take over the game. Nathan quickly lost interest and crawled off to do something else.
It was a blissful five minutes as almost any five minute span I have ever had. Thanks Nathan.
Saturday, February 11, 2017
I wrote this back in 1998 or thereabouts. I sent it to my mother, who just found it in an old journal, and sent it back to me. I love the visuals. If you are looking forward to a Spring evening on the step, this might help you stay motivated during the Winter cold.
I'm sitting on the front step. It's evening and the twilight is easy on my eyes. I can see with clarity, and without glare. The cool breeze from the canyons stirs my hair and refreshes my skin. I can take a deep breath and be cool from the inside out.
The gathering clouds over the mountains are gray and darkening, both from the waning light and from the moisture they bear. The familiar streaking can be seen in several places as the water bursts its lofty bands and races to the earth below. These streaks are self-creating and self-erasing, giving life to the term water colors.
The darkening light deepens the greens of spring into a depth of color that would cause Ireland to blanch with envy. The air itself seems to be imbued with richness from the growing strength of the greenery around me. Then I notice the faint and delicate sound of a hundred thousand tiny hands quietly clapping with the joy of spring. Imprisoned during the long, cold winter, the leaves of the aspen are free to applaud life and beauty for another season. The cottonwoods, not to be outdone by their jubilant neighbors, sing the song of ancient date. There are those who say it is only the wind through the trees, but in reality the trees are just waking for the night and are singing their songs to each other. This is when they come alive. With their feet firmly in the cool ground, their arms and heads are free to sway and dance the pleasures they feel at the new burst of life. Watch closely as they nod to each other in laughing cordiality. This is the slumber potion God made for those who are wise enough to drink it in at the end of a long, stressful day.
A rustling here, a breath of coolness there, the swaying, sweeping wonder of the twilight. What a wonder each day brings. I think I'll do this again tomorrow.
I'm sitting on the front step. It's evening and the twilight is easy on my eyes. I can see with clarity, and without glare. The cool breeze from the canyons stirs my hair and refreshes my skin. I can take a deep breath and be cool from the inside out.
The gathering clouds over the mountains are gray and darkening, both from the waning light and from the moisture they bear. The familiar streaking can be seen in several places as the water bursts its lofty bands and races to the earth below. These streaks are self-creating and self-erasing, giving life to the term water colors.
The darkening light deepens the greens of spring into a depth of color that would cause Ireland to blanch with envy. The air itself seems to be imbued with richness from the growing strength of the greenery around me. Then I notice the faint and delicate sound of a hundred thousand tiny hands quietly clapping with the joy of spring. Imprisoned during the long, cold winter, the leaves of the aspen are free to applaud life and beauty for another season. The cottonwoods, not to be outdone by their jubilant neighbors, sing the song of ancient date. There are those who say it is only the wind through the trees, but in reality the trees are just waking for the night and are singing their songs to each other. This is when they come alive. With their feet firmly in the cool ground, their arms and heads are free to sway and dance the pleasures they feel at the new burst of life. Watch closely as they nod to each other in laughing cordiality. This is the slumber potion God made for those who are wise enough to drink it in at the end of a long, stressful day.
A rustling here, a breath of coolness there, the swaying, sweeping wonder of the twilight. What a wonder each day brings. I think I'll do this again tomorrow.
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