The Sentinels
We survived the first day of painting…barely! It wasn’t a problem working together. That part was awesome! We put on ‘70s music and be-bopped around the living room, dancing and singing and having a grand time making each other laugh. Till we had to move the treadmill out of the corner and into the middle of the room to paint around it. The part you walk on folds up and you pull back on the entire thing to make it stand on two wheels. This allegedly makes it move easier. Well, not so on carpet. I bent down and grabbed the front legs and helped Mr. FixIt move this thing several feet. I’m not sure what happened, but when we set the front end down, it came down like a shot and the handles slammed me in the side of the head so hard it literally knocked me off my feet and sent me flying about six feet. It didn’t hurt as bad as it surprised me. And of course, scared Mr. FixIt to death. I laid there on the floor for a couple minutes to let the bells stop ringing in my head and got up. I’m fine, thank God!
We finished painting the ceiling in time for the kickoff of the WVU game so I left Mr. FixIt to his own devices and headed to the farm to feed the cats. The last couple of years, I’ve been trying to embrace fall and not hate it as the harbinger of winter. I’m trying to embrace winter, too…but, one thing at a time. As I drove across the two-lane, I made myself look at the landscape. In the past I would just feel sadness that the leaves were gone. This time, I asked myself to name something lovely. Suddenly…I saw texture. Where leaves were densely packed in the summer months, bare trees now stand and you can see the ridges and waterways that they line. “Name one thing that’s lovely.” The sycamore. They stand like ghostly sentinels, guardians of the creek banks, their white arms stretched toward the sky. Their limbs are crooked like a gnarly witch’s hand, the last of their dinner-plate sized leaves clinging curled and crispy to the uppermost limbs. Their round, light mustard-brown seed pods dangle like ornaments silhouetted against the sky.
Once I noticed them, I saw sycamores everywhere. They were so beautiful. As I drove back from the farm, the sun was setting and the light turned rose-gold. The trees on the hillside looked like the tips of paintbrushes dipped in yellow and gold, orange and red…only the tippy-top leaves were left. Soon the winter winds will strip all but the most hardy leaves and the twigs and branches will create a mosaic against a thin blue sky. There was a hard freeze last night…a hoar frost still clinging to the frozen grass. As I pulled into the driveway at Mr. FixIt’s house, ten deer were out grazing in the field. I sat there for a while, contemplating. It was a good day. This is a good life. I am healthy, loved, secure…happy. I smiled and went inside to start supper. ❤️
“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” Philippians 4:12-13 NIV