Full Moon Musings
Tonight, I was on my way to a class about how to make mead, and I looked over and saw the moon rising over Ostrich Bay, turned around, and headed back for home. I had really wanted to go to this mead making class, and had laid in a five pound bag of boysenberries in the freezer, as well as a big jar of honey, but I had to change my plans as soon as I saw that moon.
I went home, gathered a surprised Arilyn up, whilst mumbling some excuse or another about why I was not at my class, and Ari and I bundled up for a walk. Shevaun was buried in work, having three papers due this weekend, and stayed home to try to get ahead. We took Hoshi, of course, and the three of us walked down to Ostrich Bay.
The moon was dazzling in her beauty, and we watched as the clouds slowly drifted, the ever changing evening gown that the moon wore by far more beautiful than any wrought terrestrially. And so, we stood on a little foot landing that afforded us this beautiful view, and watched the lights twinkle in the houses across the water, and saw their reflections strewn across the ephemeral trees that were likewise cast across the mirror surface of the bay.
Silence, cold silence, save for the occasional whiffle of some water bird that was up the cove from us. We spoke our prayers, singly, together, for our families, for ourselves, filled with joy, and peace.
Such a beautiful evening we spent, the girl child, Hoshi and I. As we walked home along the bay, savoring the last of our time together this evening, Arilyn said that this would always be her favourite full moon for the rest of her life. I smiled to myself, glad that I had listened to that inner voice and turned around to go home.
With Brian gone, the onus is on me to create a balanced home life for everyone. We are being supportive of Shevaun as she begins college and works full time, so that means that one of us runs her to work at the mall if it is at all possible. That means me now. If Arilyn is home in bed, and it is 9:30, that means us now. That part I am kinda hating, but will manage.
I also have to get Arilyn to her other activities, like harp lessons and fencing lessons. We are no longer going to Tacoma for fencing once a week, because we found out that they are having fencing in Poulsbo twice a week. It is a fifteen minute drive for us now, and will only be about five minutes, maybe ten, when we are moved to Bangor. This is a very good thing, but it eats up one more night a week. Harp lessons are on Monday evenings, and she was invited today to participate in a harp ensemble over in Tacoma. The South Sound Strings ensemble meets on Saturday afternoons at the Puget Sound University. While all of this is wonderful, and I am thrilled that she has these opportunities, I no longer own Tuesday or Thursday evenings, which were meeting nights, and my Saturdays are gone as well. I cannot fathom how I can possibly work the SCA in with that schedule. I thought I had everything nicely dovetailed, back when she was busy on Mondays and Wednesdays, but this new schedule is going to be challenging.
I don't know how I ever managed with four little ones at home, and all of the things they did. I am sure that I can make this work.
Every day is a new adventure, indeed, and I am grateful for the challenges that I have that help me to grow, even when sometimes I feel that I cannot see my way out of the corn patch.
I went home, gathered a surprised Arilyn up, whilst mumbling some excuse or another about why I was not at my class, and Ari and I bundled up for a walk. Shevaun was buried in work, having three papers due this weekend, and stayed home to try to get ahead. We took Hoshi, of course, and the three of us walked down to Ostrich Bay.
The moon was dazzling in her beauty, and we watched as the clouds slowly drifted, the ever changing evening gown that the moon wore by far more beautiful than any wrought terrestrially. And so, we stood on a little foot landing that afforded us this beautiful view, and watched the lights twinkle in the houses across the water, and saw their reflections strewn across the ephemeral trees that were likewise cast across the mirror surface of the bay.
Silence, cold silence, save for the occasional whiffle of some water bird that was up the cove from us. We spoke our prayers, singly, together, for our families, for ourselves, filled with joy, and peace.
Such a beautiful evening we spent, the girl child, Hoshi and I. As we walked home along the bay, savoring the last of our time together this evening, Arilyn said that this would always be her favourite full moon for the rest of her life. I smiled to myself, glad that I had listened to that inner voice and turned around to go home.
With Brian gone, the onus is on me to create a balanced home life for everyone. We are being supportive of Shevaun as she begins college and works full time, so that means that one of us runs her to work at the mall if it is at all possible. That means me now. If Arilyn is home in bed, and it is 9:30, that means us now. That part I am kinda hating, but will manage.
I also have to get Arilyn to her other activities, like harp lessons and fencing lessons. We are no longer going to Tacoma for fencing once a week, because we found out that they are having fencing in Poulsbo twice a week. It is a fifteen minute drive for us now, and will only be about five minutes, maybe ten, when we are moved to Bangor. This is a very good thing, but it eats up one more night a week. Harp lessons are on Monday evenings, and she was invited today to participate in a harp ensemble over in Tacoma. The South Sound Strings ensemble meets on Saturday afternoons at the Puget Sound University. While all of this is wonderful, and I am thrilled that she has these opportunities, I no longer own Tuesday or Thursday evenings, which were meeting nights, and my Saturdays are gone as well. I cannot fathom how I can possibly work the SCA in with that schedule. I thought I had everything nicely dovetailed, back when she was busy on Mondays and Wednesdays, but this new schedule is going to be challenging.
I don't know how I ever managed with four little ones at home, and all of the things they did. I am sure that I can make this work.
Every day is a new adventure, indeed, and I am grateful for the challenges that I have that help me to grow, even when sometimes I feel that I cannot see my way out of the corn patch.