God waits to win back His own flowers
as gifts from man's hands.
~ Rabindranath Tagore
Here we are, living our dream.
Over the past several months we've known more snarls & snags to home buying than ever we cared to know, much less experience. Funny how dim that all seems now that we're home. And never has that word, home, resonated so deeply.
I'm especially fond of the pear & cherry orchards that surround us, as well as the purple sage growing on our side hill. (Photo: This morning's squall brewing over the pear orchards & valley below.)
Many are the moments I glance through a window and am struck anew by the beauty surrounding us. What's more, I look across the valley to that long ago place of my father's childhood, Jackass Butte; from whence he walked to & from school every day, & where his parents homesteaded at the turn of the century. I know I will have many moments ~ planned & unplanned ~ when I consider the deep things of family from this vantage. My pen is already eager.
But now to finish unpacking. I'm nearly done emptying & breaking down boxes, which means each room of the house is looking more and more intentional. In the past few days I've organized closets & drawers; the fine-tuning stuff. Just today I hung a couple of pictures and made a basket of purple, silk Hydrangeas for my bedroom.
Interspersed with settling is family time. My father's sister's children & their children reside here ~ a rather large contingent who are well acquainted with the rural, farming/ranching life. To my great delight, they re-acquainted me with sliced dill pickles on a ham sandwich last week. It's my new go-too food for lunch! Our shared history and many co-mingled childhood memories make for marvelous jabber-jawing.
I'll be back in earnest soon. But for now I've got my work cut out for me, and I like that just fine.
God's gifts put man's best dreams to shame.
~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning