There aren't a lot of places in my house where I can find quiet. With four little girls with a lot to say (and shriek), not five minutes go by without relentless calls for, "Mama! Mommy! Mom!" But when a warm rain came down this week, and the girls wanted to puddle jump, I found some quiet. Under my um-ber-ella, ella, ella. Just for a few minutes, when the rain poured down hard and fast, all I could hear was the staccato rhythm of raindrops. The girls swished back and forth in the puddles with their knee-high rubber boots, getting gleefully soaked to the bone. I inhaled deep that great rainy smell, and breathed a sigh of relief.
Johanna (right): Like a sanctuary, our community greenhouse offers us all a peaceful place to grow and tend to our gardens.
I like to go in there, after supper, all on my own. I take the time to weed, water and reflect on how well my plants are doing. It is a moment of my day where there is no noise, there are no distractions. It's a place and a time where I can let me my wander, let myself become quiet and slow down. And the more I think about the day to day stresses, the busyness that goes on in the world, the more I am thankful for this quiet little refuge.
The well-known poem by Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken ends, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."Two women, who became friends via the magic of the Internet, were both living life on roads less traveled by. Circumstance had them both live in Whitehorse for a short time, where they became best friends. Life's map has them currently in differing geographic locations, but their connection and camaraderie continue as they continue on paths of motherhood, friendship, creativity and discovery. The Two Roads Project is our effort to reconnect with each other and our inner artists on a weekly basis, each Friday. (Or thereabouts. We don't always know which day of the week it is).