Saturday, June 19, 2010

Dog Days



I love the seasons. It is one of my favorite things about living in Nebraska. And if I had to pick a season, I would pick summer.

"Hot enough for ya?"

Just about, yeah. I love the heat. I like the sun and the deep down, baked feeling when it is really hot. I like the humid wall of heat that I move through as I walk in between air conditioned places. (It's almost as fun as being warm and cold at the same time. But that's a sensation usually reserved for winter walks with warm torsos and cold extremeties.)

The other fantastic thing about summer is that it's, well, summer. The best part about summer? I am the only person that I have to get up and out of the house in the morning. I can let the kids stay up riding bikes and playing baseball and doing henna tattoos. I can put them to bed without showers.

Of course, my house also gets trashed in the summer, but that's really ok.

Our most widely used room in the summer is actually outside. Our front porch is used for sitting, reading, eating, listening to music, and visiting with each other and with company.

This was one of those days. We are all home from various short trips. The house is full of kids (7 or so?) and they are doing kid things - roasting marshmallows, braiding hair, laying in the rain on the sidewalk...Bill and I are on the porch where we ate dinner with his parents and now sit to visit and listen to music. The porch is noticably cooler than the yard - I think it is the breeze somehow? - and the storm cooled things off nicely.

I want to remember the ease of this afternoon and evening. The intense heat and short but intense summer storm that hit. The happy kids. The grilled food. And the heat. Summer.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Sleeps With the Swallows

The Iowa night was darker than usual due to the clouds. I carried a giant flashlight with me as I crossed the yard to the barn.

I thought that it was reasonable to set my tent up in the barn at my friend's farm. The house was full of women visiting for the weekend and I really wanted space to myself. I knew that my tent could not withstand a storm, but I thought the barn would give me the needed protection from the elements. Several of the women questioned my decision and were doubtful. I felt a bit defensive, but began to question myself as they talked about the dark and the hole in the floor and the creatures in the barn. The doubt reared up again as I got to the barn and startled several swallows who began to fly around. The movement was disconcerting, but I thought of myself as a swallow (who was distressed at the intrusion, nothing more) and assured myself that I would be better off once I got to the hay loft where my tent was set up.

As I climbed the ladder, I set off even more swallows in the hay loft who were distressed at my entrance. I crawled into my tent and immediately felt safe and comfortable. I knew that the decision to sleep there was a good one.

My tent has enough room for an air mattress and not much else. It was purchased by my father to backpack in Colorado. The first summer it was used (25 years ago?) it went up the Rockies on my dad's back. We slept on light bedrolls in those days. These days I don't camp without my air mattress. And sheets. I camp with sheets in a hayloft. Good grief, the tent thinks.

I lay in the hot Iowa night listening to the swallows settle down. I settled myself. I gave into the light support of the air mattress and tried to locate the exact spot of the bullfrog by traveling on the sound out the open hayloft door, across the road, to the pond and into the tall grass. I drifted to sleep.

I awoke in the night whent the storm hit - lightening, rain and thunder. The wind made the hay loft door swing back and forth and at one point it slammed shut. I lay still and felt grounded, though I was up high. I felt a part of the storm and nature and time. I searched myself for fear and felt none. I fell back asleep.

What woke me this morning were the swallows. I had no idea that swallows made so much noise. They have a chirping sound followed by a trilling sound. I could tell which of them were talking to each other as I lay and came slowly into consciousness. I gave up trying to sleep as their chatter continued. I unzipped the tent and went in seacrh of coffee in the farm house.

I greeted the women in the yard and house with a smile and nod. I am at a Silent Retreat this weekend. We are not talking or having any unnecessary sound (music, tv, radio, etc.).

Tonight I will sleep again with the swallows. And I might even talk back.