summer on the breezeway

 

there's a little room between the kitchen and the garage of our home that my grandma christened "the breezeway." i like to think of it as the early-morning-coffee-with-the-sunshine-spilling-in-way. or the late-evening-salads-before-walking-way. it's the perfect little space for breathing, i've found. as because it's not quite outside but not quite in, pablo goes crazy over it, running from screen to screen looking out at bunnies in the lawn. one night in april, we sat and rocked on the glider and listened to a prairie home companion as a late spring storm spun outside and sprayed its droplets onto our ankles. pretty soon, it will be winter again and the breezeway won't be as comfortable, so we're soaking up this little nugget of time every chance we can.

a stroll down the road

i needed to get out outside yesterday. to free myself from the white walls of my office and breathe in God's air. seriously, there are times when i just go outside, breath and feel the heavenly spirit wrap around me. this usually happens in the morning, when the sun is just peeking its head up and the world is chilled, fresh and stark.


so yesterday evening, robert and i walked pablo to my grandfather (nanno)'s house for supper. it's only about a quarter of a mile, but it's my favorite stretch of land anywhere, hands down. the road is perfectly flat, great for riding a bike on warm summer nights. it's rarely traveled, flanked by fields on the left and older homes on the right. it's the kind of street where people live for 50 years and don't move. where neighbors grow up together and wave from their yards. i feel at home there.

wooden mailbox posts

 pretty manicured shrubs

sweet cottages by the roadside

 log piles and hay bales in the sunset

sometimes i forget just how calming fresh air can be. its innate ability to snap me out of a funk or give me some grand new idea. and i love the way God whispers through the tiniest of movements, like fluttering leaves. 


yesterday morning, i watched a squirrel perched on our well eat an acorn for about ten minutes. i sat nearby and watched its little jaw work furiously at the meat. it was spectacular and downright adorable.


sometimes i forget that humans aren't the only part of this immaculate creation, and the center of the world is more directly aligned with nature than structure, with feeling rather than facebooking.


and i thank the heavens for a God who reminds me of these things and forgives me when i cling too tightly to my walls, nudging me ever so sweetly outdoors, outside, among His creation, to really start living, one small walk down the road at a time.