Thursday, December 02, 2010

Like Powdered Sugar...

I love beautiful blogs this time of year. You know the kind I mean, the ones where bloggers post pictures of their lovely red-cheeked kids playing in incredible looking landscapes that just happen to be their backyards. They then post wonderful ideas for getting the kids out into nature, no matter what the weather, so they can feed the deer or hang birdfeeders or snap photos of snow laden pine trees or brightly colored birds in the bare branches of a birch tree.

I love those blogs, and I don't.

They can help feed my need for natural beauty, and I do seem to have a deep hunger for it. Living for the past thirteen years in an apartment in a tiny post-industrial city can sometimes up my need for green to alarming levels. (Picture "green alert" like a Star Trek "red alert.") Even though I've made peace with our call here, even though I know we're where we're supposed to be, there are days (especially slate-gray-sky ones filled with spitting snow) when I think if I see one more bit of asphalt, I will scream.

Because sometimes, truth be told? Such blogs make me envious. And then I get grumpy because I know envy is such a scurvy little green-eyed thing and I need to get rid of it. Envy can grow into discontent, and discontent is not the land where I want to live, not during Advent or any other time of the year.

I don't own acres of land or a farm or a patch of Christmas trees. We don't have huge lovely windows that open out onto quiet tree-filled vistas. Sometimes even our glimpses of the sky are blocked by electrical wires and brick buildings. We do get out and nature walk, even in December and January and February, even here. We look for bits of beauty and thank God, we find them.

We even occasionally go somewhere else where such bits of beauty are more readily abundant, like our time at my parents' last week in Virginia. I thought my heart would burst when I saw a red cardinal in the bare branches of a crepe myrtle. He perched next to a green bird feeder and was backed by copper and yellow leaves still hanging on other trees. When I let my glance wander over to the right, I saw the fall-blooming camellia bush, laden with pale pink blossoms, and the coppery-plum leaves of the smoke tree. Tucked almost hidden in their side yard was a miniature Japanese maple whose leaves rivaled the cardinal's feathers.

That's a rich day, and I'm thankful for it, storing it in my memory banks. Here such moments are rare indeed, so I'll enjoy what I see: my eight year old curled up on the narrow sill of our window with a couch cushion and a pillow (longing for a window seat) marveling over the street below us. "Mommy," she said this morning, in the most enchanted of tones, "the parking lot looks like it's dusted with powdered sugar."

And so it does, a small citified Christmas cookie, baked with love and hand-decorated by God himself.

7 comments:

Free Range Anglican said...

You're always welcome to come borrow our little plot of nature. Garden here, if you like, feed birds. Stalk deer...
And if you feel like it, you can even ring the doorbell and spend time with the human animals... a little hot chocolate and a fire in the fire place... If you find yourself trapped and carless over winterbreak, holler and I'll even come get you. Now that Isaac can be left at home by himself, that sort of thing is easy.

Beth said...

Tara, you're so sweet. :) I hope you know that I don't begrudge you your wonderful bit of nature - in fact, I'm thankful you have it! We'd love to come play sometime - and we happen to think the human animals are the best part at y'all's place. :-)

Thankful for beauty wherever it can be found, even in little patches hereabouts. The first blast of wintry weather always seems to bring out my inner curmudgeon. I think it's knowing we're in for at least three months of cold and gray that makes me feel like one of those grumbly cartoon characters who mutters a balloon full of typewriter symbols.

And by the way, how on earth did Isaac get to be so old? That must make us even older...hmmm...

Erin said...

What a wonderfully poetic way for her to put it! :) I will think of that tomorrow when I am walking across the parking lot at the mall and trying not to slip on the black ice... ;)

And I wish you could sit here in my living room with me and watch through the window as the four bluejays who have for some reason all decided to settle in the birch tree in the front yard in the past month flit here and there. They are a lot of fun to watch!

Beth said...

Ah, beautiful! My parents must have bluejays too. I didn't spot them while in Virginia, but I came across a bluejay feather while bagging leaves in the front yard.

S. has been coming up with some lovely poetic turns of phrase lately. I hope it's contagious -- I'm due to start work on the advent poem, and am seriously running on creative fumes this year.

Erin said...

Ooh, advent poem. I need to come up with something too... Looking forward to yours!

Beth said...

I'm feeling a bit frustrated this year -- trying to figure out where I can find enough contemplative time to really work on the poem. Trying to push through a big pile of work between now and the 10th so I can give myself some time the week after...

Looking forward to your poem too!

Free Range Anglican said...

Beth, I don't think you could begrudge anyone anything... but nonetheless, we have it so that folks can use it. (But we don't have the old house anymore... so you do have to come here if you want to use some garden space this summer.)

I'm a winter crumudgeon too, I understand. We'll have to get S. on a sled some this winter... maybe meet up at Walter Panek park? There's a serious hill over there and Mikey can handle it now. And again, I can come fetch you.

I enjoy your urban nature posts because of how easily overlooked beauty can be in the city, or how stale and man-made it seems... perfect rows of stunted trees never did much for me. I think God put you in an apartment so that we wouldn't miss these things, as seen through your eyes.

That said, I keep meaning to ask if S. would be interested in 4-H next year... its not just for farm kids y'know. Nathaniel is joining, which should be fun.

call or email when you want to come play. We love any time we get with you.