You would think with a snow day, or days as it were, in Knoxville, with everything cancelled and wide open stretches of time before me, I would not have missed a blog post, wouldn't you. Obviously you would have been wrong. Somehow that empty time felt free for indulgence. Yes I puttered around the house and worked on some projects, but I also played, and I put my to do list aside.
Tuesday afternoon Tikka and I had to go outside several times to play in the snow, to get it in our hair and our eyes and to shake it off and run around in it some more. Tikka hates water but she loves snow. She was completely unimpressed with the beach. But Tuesday and Wednesday she was more than happy to go outside: to run around the house and play tag, to send snow flying into the air, to just be playful; and I was happy to play with her.
It makes my heart glad to see this side of my furry baby girl. She is usually quiet and laid back, but she has been a bit more rambunctious lately, more willing to leap and bark and play tag, and I have probably behaved more like a puppy grandma than a mom, willing to indulge her when she wants to play, at least some of the time. Tuesday and Wednesday were Tikka days. I kept coats and boots and gloves by the door (there is no mudroom or closet on the main floor of this house) and we went out pretty much whenever she wanted. I'll never know what happened to Tikka when she was on the streets, but I hope this more playful side of her means that she trusts me, and is happy, and knows that I will not abandon her.
Wednesday morning I also marveled at the pattern of the snow on the screen outside my office window. The screen, that particular tree, both are likely to go in time. I love the light in this house in the winter time (I bought it in winter). In the summer that tree blocks all the light and the view. But for this moment, it was wonderful just to look at the patterns and smile, accepting this small gift before it melted away.
By Thursday much of the snow had melted, although there are still patches here and there. I noticed this small camellia bud, caught just before emerging. A flower in waiting, a promise, ready to burst forth. We had some warm weather last week, in the 60s, before another freeze and more single digit temps. This camellia has been sitting in bud, waiting to bloom for weeks now. An opportunity which did not quite materialize, and I am grateful. This small bud waiting to emerge to me holds so much more joy and promise.
And thus it is; the pattern of life gets interrupted, and yet the promise always returns. Somehow this little flower reminds me of faith, of hope, of the certainty that the earth, that life, will indeed right itself once again, if we can but hold still long enough.
