I used to have what I called "perfect moments." I think I've written about them before. I hadn't had them in a long time, and the sensation has definitely changed. A little less ecstasy, a deeper contentment. But still, a sense of belonging. A mutual ownership--to own a place with your heart, and be owned by it in turn. It happened all the time when I lived in France. And it happened the other day on a stroll with Jane.
For the first time, I followed our road across the creek, to have a look at the field, the buildings, the horses we see from our home, and to see our home from their vantage. As I continued on, we met some goats, luxuriant thickets of winterberry, grasses, red branches, deep green grass, and then I turned all the way around to see the ridges around us, and finally Ranier in the distance. And had that perfect moment. Without further ado (for who could do justice to such a sensation):
Returning home in excellent spirits, we played about in the yard, and discovered these enormous fungi at the base of the madrona tree. Anyone recognize? They look like chanterelles but seem too big...much larger than the span of my hand. But then what do I know. Certainly not enough to dare a sample!
In any case, here's to perfect, and imperfect moments, to lift you up out of your struggles and worries, like me. It seems so many people I love, and so many folks generous enough to share a corner of their life in their weblogs, have very full lives at the moment. Maybe a little too full. All I can offer is my sympathies, and suggest you take a walk.