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Out Like a Lamb  This one is a little late, but still appropriate as we sit on the cusp of summer. Old Man Winter is still making an appearance where I am, but thankfully his visits are getting shorter and shorter. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Our story tonight is called Out Like a Lamb, and it’s a story about the changeable month of March … and a day spent enjoying a bit of both winter and spring. It’s also about a book read in the bath, the luxury of a slow start to the day, sunlight warming the floorboards, a pot of pansies dusted with snow, and making peace with a bit of chaos, inside and out. March is wild and ever changing. Sweet mild spring one hour, a howling gale with snow and ice the next. I liked her unpredictability; how unapologetic she was when she turned on a dime and changed herself completely in an afternoon. I’d heard once that each person is a string of DNA that would take over a century to recite, so I imagine that if we feel complicated at times, like we hold zones of temperate and inclement weather within ourselves, that they sometimes overlap and emerge on their own schedule .. well that adds up. The morning had come in like a lion when I’d pushed aside the curtains in my bedroom. I’d found a few inches of fresh snow spread over the yard and more falling fast behind it. The winter aconite with its tiny yellow flowers that had appeared a week before around the roots of the pine trees were covered with white. While they had been beautiful, I had to admit this snowfall was as well. It slowed me down. In a real literal way. I stopped and breathed. Spent time just looking. I’d had a plan in the back of my mind to dress and head into town, to spend the morning running errands. But suddenly none of that sounded pressing or appealing. And if the roads were slick, it seemed a silly risk to take in order to return some library books and stand in line at the post office. No, I should stay tucked in at home. Bundle up and enjoy watching the snow come down. It hadn’t really taken much time to convince myself of this. I was still standing in front of the window with the curtain in my hand. A gust of wind blew a thick wave of flakes against the pane, and I could feel the chill of it on my skin. I could get back into bed. That was always a lovely option. But I thought about another that I rarely took but would feel so good right now. A morning bath. Oh, a morning bath! It sets the perfect tone for a day when you don’t have to rush off to anything. It says, “today we are going slow.” I stepped into the bathroom and opened the tap over the tub. In the cabinets, I looked through the bottles and jars. I had some Epsom salts. Good for soaking when my body was achy as well as a jar a friend had gifted me with rose petals and grains of lavender mixed into the salts. It smelled wonderful but last time I used it I’d been picking the lavender out of my hair for a few days. Instead, I reached for the bottle of pearly bubble bath and trickled a stream of it into the steaming water. As the tub filled, I got a fresh towel and wash cloth from the linen closet, my book from the bedside table and a tall glass of water from the kitchen. It’s strange what feels indulgent to you at different stages in your life. When I was younger, I wouldn’t have been staying home to take a bath on a Saturday morning. But here I was. Maybe it’s a gift of ageing. A growing understanding of - what is enough. And the capacity to enjoy it when you have it. In that first minute in the hot water, my mind went peacefully quiet. I wasn’t thinking much of anything, just feeling the heat and the relaxation in my muscles. I stretched out in the tub, closed my eyes. I could hear the wind blowing around the house and I thought about the squirrels and rabbits digging deeper into their dens. Curling around one another for warmth. I picked up my book and read. When the water started to feel a little cool, I just turned the hot tap back on and let it run till it was piping again. I sipped water, soaped up my washcloth, scrubbed and eventually felt ready to get out. As I reached for my giant bath towel and wrapped it around me, I had a memory of being helped out of the tub as a . Being wrapped in a warm towel and how safe and happy it had made me feel. I smiled at myself in the steamy mirror. I’d taken over that job. Of being the steward of my own happiness and safety. And while I hadn’t been very good at it at the beginning (it had taken practice and unlearning some things along the way), I was now adept. I protected me. I was safe with me. I was happy with me. I pulled on a robe and stepped back into the bedroom to peer out of the window. To my surprise the sun was shining and the wind had dropped to nothing. The trees stood still, dripping in the sunlight and the sidewalks were already free of snow. I cracked the window and leaned down to the sill to breathe in the air. It wasn’t warm exactly, but I thought I could smell the sunlight in it and it was inviting. As I dressed and combed my hair, the sunlight grew brighter, cutting into my rooms and warming my wood floors with its rays. By the time I was pulling on my shoes, thinking about an early lunch, all the morning snow was gone. And when I opened up my front door, bird song rang from the treetops in my yard. I chuckled at March and her changeable ways, zipped up my jacket and set out in search of something tasty. I’d been so ready to spend the day curled up at home, but now I wanted to be out in the world, enjoying the warmth till March took another left turn. There was a cafe on the corner, built into a little brick building and their pots of pansies were still dusted with snow as I walked up and pulled open their door. They made excellent sandwiches and soups and there were always a few empty tables and booths to slide into. I found one near the front window and sat down, unzipping my jacket and letting the sun shine on my face. On special they had a roasted cauliflower sandwich with avocado and Tahini sauce, served on toasted marble rye with house made chips and ginger iced tea. It had my name all over it and after I ordered it, I sat back and watched people walking out on the street. By tonight the winter could be back in full force, icy with fresh snow or we may be headed into a few days of sun and warmth. I guess in some ways it didn’t really matter. I could find ways to enjoy whatever came. Nothing Much Happens |
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A very interesting read. April was a very unpredictable month here also, but I'm hoping May is going to be nicer to us. Our farmers are having trouble getting into the fields because of the rains, so I'm sure I'll be hearing the sounds of tractors late into the nights soon. Be a prism, spreading God's light and love, not a mirror reflecting the world's hatred.
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Lovely read~~ 
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A very interesting read. April was a very unpredictable month here also, but I'm hoping May is going to be nicer to us. Our farmers are having trouble getting into the fields because of the rains, so I'm sure I'll be hearing the sounds of tractors late into the nights soon. I don’t know what the situation is like for the farmers where you are and if the rain is desperately needed the way it is here .. but hopefully it’s a banner season for them, prosperous and plentiful.
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Lovely read~~ Happy 1st of May!
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Lovely read. Very mixed weather here too. some days are still very cold, grey and wet. Yesterday was lovely and sunny, back to grey today though. 
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Lovely read. Very mixed weather here too. some days are still very cold, grey and wet. Yesterday was lovely and sunny, back to grey today though.
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