Gift of a Lull

It’s a beautiful early July morning, and only two days before we’ll celebrate the Fourth of July here in the United States.

For me, this morning feels like the calm both before and after the storm.

Like many parts of this country, we’ve faced tricky weather around here lately, with more than enough rain and nearly constant wind. The trees surrounding our cabin have taken a beating, starting with a winter ice storm from which they have yet to recover.

Last night, I sat writing in our sunroom, enjoying the fresh scent of rain through a barely open window while lost in a story I’m working feverishly to finish. The sound of rain lulling me into that always sought after but too often elusive state of mind where the words flow freely from my mind through my fingers wasn’t the real-life shower falling just beyond the windows, but the meditative sound track playing through my noise canceling headphones. I’ve listened to that same track while writing all twelve of my books to date.

I only mention the headphones because—lost as I was in the fictional world I’ve devised through my imagination—I didn’t even hear the racket when something came crashing down in the real world. A huge branch fell, mere feet from the corner of the room where I sat writing. My daughter had to alert me to the near miss; shocked that I could be so oblivious to my surroundings.
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How often do we miss what’s going on around us while lost in our own thoughts?

Today, when I woke to a clear sky and a calm breeze, I decided it was the perfect morning for a peaceful cup of coffee on the dock. We expect another storm around here tomorrow, but it won’t be a weather event (I hope). The rest of our family will arrive for a few days of fun camaraderie, good food, and hopefully a campfire complete with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.

But I have more words to write, a menu to figure out, and groceries to buy before the festivities can begin. This is the lull before my next storm.

Beyond the scope of our planned family activities, there are plenty of other storms brewing. It’s all enough to threaten a person’s peace of mind, yet it’s important for us to deal with the tension we feel.

​As I gathered my fresh cup of coffee and a notebook to jot down pointers for the chapters I plan to write today, I headed outside and down the steps toward the shoreline, only to pull up short at the odd tilt to my battered copper pot. I usually plant flowers in it each summer. This year, all that’s growing in it is regrowth from last year because my flower planting was pretty sparse. Yesterday, I’d admired the way nature had stepped in where I’d failed to act, and I swear that pot was still upright. This morning, the base on which it’s anchored is crumbling, and the whole thing is at risk of collapse.
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This morning.

Two years ago.

I’ll have to move the pot, because my goal is to plant many more years’ worth of flowers in it in the future.
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Then, as I approached the dock itself, I was surprised to see that one of the supports my hubby had just placed a few days ago had already tipped over. The waves churned up in the stormy weather yesterday were probably the culprits. I had to decide whether to kick off my slides and venture into the water so I could re-brace the end of the dock. Stepping onto the unsupported dock wasn’t an option, as I might have damaged the frame.

Fine. While I hadn’t planned to get my feet wet at 6:45 in the morning, sometimes we have to do what it takes when tiny impediments stand in the way of our goals. Off came my slides and I dipped my toes into the water, delighted when the temperature was pleasant instead of jarring.

Then the shale beneath my feet gave way, and I had to fight to keep my balance lest I end up with muddy shale on the seat of my sweatpants, or tumble into the water.

Unbeknownst to me, there may have been a witness to my stumbling. Do you see the swirl right next to the dock? But I’m not worried. Fish will keep our secrets.
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Once the concrete block was back in place, I realized things had shifted enough that the dock ramp no longer touched it. But it would at least be there if the ramp dipped under my weight, so I held my breath and eased my way out onto the dock. I needed those quiet few minutes to enjoy my fresh coffee and contemplate the state of the world around me.

No one else was around, but I wasn’t alone. A large pelican, barely visible in the photo’s background below, bobbed on the gentle swells of the lake. He came no closer to me, but my presence didn’t disturb him enough to force him to leave, either. A second pelican swooped overhead, choosing not to land in our bay. I probably scared him off.
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Then a head popped out of the water, and I could see a small stick protruding from the little guy’s mouth. A beaver maybe? Whatever it was, it swam toward shore, but before I could turn my phone camera back on, it ducked below the surface again, still there but now out of sight.

I glimpsed the sleek spine of a fish, skimming right below the surface of the water, much closer to our dock.

By the time my coffee had cooled, the wind was picking up again and I could hear a dog barking from our cabin. She didn’t appreciate being left inside. My reprieve was over, yet those few minutes brought important things to mind.

• Even when things seem frustratingly disheartening in the outside world, creatures in nature continue to go about their business, undeterred by things beyond their control.
• No foundation is impervious to pressures, and all are at risk of collapsing if not properly protected.
• This creates an interesting dichotomy. How can we strike the right balance between the two?

 
We live in a great country, and I feel blessed to be planning a celebration of it for our family and friends, even though I dread that trip to the grocery store. I hope we can all take a few minutes in the days ahead to remind ourselves of how we might work together to strengthen this nation, instead of focusing on our differences or trying to gain power over others. Because just like that crumbling tree stump and unstable shale shoreline I encountered this morning, it doesn’t take much to tip things over.

​I hope you have the chance to enjoy a favorite food in the days ahead; to laugh with someone special; or to toss a beanbag in a friendly game under a warm sun while standing on a grassy, stable surface.

We should never forget how lucky we are to live here, nor can we afford to take our blessings for granted.

Happy Fourth of July! Celebrating alongside you, Kim