Waking up to a forecast of rain and after hours of sleep troubled by the sound of nearby logging, I reached for a long, layered skirt and a close-fitting top. I’ve noticed this inclination before, wanting the protection and cosy feeling of skirts brushing my ankles and a snug-fitting bodice sometimes. It always makes me wonder about past-lives when this happens.
Walking into the kitchen, my gaze is pulled to the glowing buttercups below the storm-grey sky. Then three of the buttercups astonish me when they take flight…until I realize they are goldfinches and see that there are dozens flitting amongst the apple trees…and then a thread of azure is woven with the gold as our bluebirds join in. When I can tear myself away from the window, I quickly feed the hens and then retire inside to drown out the logging with something on the radio.
Late in the afternoon, I need to rescue our goat from a rain shower and go, umbrella in hand, to the barn. I revel in the loud drumming of the rain on the roof that negates any other sound, as I spread a layer of fresh straw. When the rain suddenly stops, the logging sounds louder than ever…it sounds, in fact, like it is in our own woods and I stride out of the paddock and up to the top of the front drive where I can see the eastern boundary of our property.
The trees on the border are still there, of course, it was just a trick of sound. And the telling-off that I had imagined and ready is tucked away, tho’ I cannot tuck away the feelings of grief and frustration as I hear the sound of the saw so near. It would have been a relief in some ways, to have been able to vent. Instead, after I watch the tops of our trees gently swaying in the wind, I take my wet skirts in hand and make my way back to the shelter of the house. But as I hang up my damp clothes, I pull out another long skirt and pair with it a long-sleeved t-shirt…not something I usually wear, but this one has a tree hand-printed on its front, and is snug enough for comfort.
For all of my striding and anger, I don’t know that I would have actually relished a confrontation. Those men who are logging are just doing the job they were hired to do. But I am glad to be able to express my solidarity in this small way.
I just noticed that they’ve stopped logging for today. We can all have some peace for awhile. And now I can think of other things again…goldfinches and dandelions glowing white and all of the trees still standing and those being planted at this very moment…somewhere…and thoughts like this can slip in, in the quiet…
“This turning towards what you deeply love, saves you.”