Morning Light

morning light

birds chirping

spring in North Carolina

nestles in my palm quietly

gentle breeze

tells me to just be

quiet is how I am today

"Bird" (c) Megan Oteri- You can share this just credit my name and website please.

I woke this morning to the comfort of Saturday.  My son called out, “Daddy! Daddy!”

The gorgeous attentive voice of my husband responds rhythmically, “Benjamin.”  There is talk of making pancakes and breakfast.  ”Oh no, there is no milk. We have to go to the store. Benjamin, do you want to be my helper and go get milk with me?”

I laid in bed, reached over to Ben’s toddler bed that is filled with stuffed animals, clothes, books, debris from the fact Ben sleeps in our bed, right next to his.  I reached for Natalie Goldberg, and the crisp white glossy cover of Writing Down the Bones.  I read three short chapters that filled me with peace, with recognition — I am an artist, a writer, a human.  Her words percolated and dripped into my mind, as the coffee pot hiccuped its brew.  The birds chirped outside the navy blue curtains, light peeked through, dancing a tango with the world outside.

I am filled with peace today.  The church bells chime in the distance.  Saturday’s calm greets me with open arms as I sit on the porch this morning and write.

As I walked through the house after making a choice to read first thing this morning, I realized I am hungry for detail.  I have always been hungry, and just as Natalie Godlberg says, writers stalk their prey, they observe the world around them and eat up every detail, I gobbled up morning light and shadows as they danced on the bathroom wall. I saw the light peeking through my artroom/writing studio/office I share with my husband that is destroyed according to Martha Stewart cleaning standards (really anyone’s standards), and accepted this is my ordinary extraordinary detail Goldberg talks about.

"Porch Detail" (c) Megan Oteri- You can share this just credit my name and website please.

The extraordinary, a red cardinal peeks at me in the now petal-less Dogwood.  And then takes off in flight at an angle so close to my front porch.

A female cardinal calls to him, like the words call to me.  And the cardinal is gone. A squirrel hippety hops across the telephone lines, horizontal on the thin cable. Now I look up and the squirrel in on top of the telephone pole, looking right at me. Eye contact if I had a zoom lens. The blue Carolina sky is a backdrop behind us.  The squirrel’s bushy tail swishing, twirling.  A bird flies across this natural plane, splitting the angle perpendicular.

Photo by Megan Oteri (c) (A photo on my cell phone camera – share it if you want it)

Beauty is everywhere today, but most importantly, it calls to me and I listen.

 “Every moment is enormous and it is all we have.”
― Natalie Goldberg, Long Quiet Highway: Waking Up in America

Winter Muse

“The Original Journal by memo

‎”In a way, winter is the real spring, the time when the inner things happen, the resurgence of nature.” – Edna O’Brien, Irish novelist

Like · Comment · January 23 at 2:41pm·Dawn Herring likes this.”

This is a quote I put up on the Original Journal Facebook page.  I feel it summarizes where I’m at this winter.  I’m doing a lot of reflecting and observing, especially of my son, Benjamin who has turned into a thinking, smart, funny, independent, creative, curious, chaos creating, little boy.  The other day he just went right on up to his height chair and swiped the cookie off the plate.  It made me realize how tall he has grown.  How tall he is.  And how independent he is becoming. 

Ben at park recently

I am a fan of winter.  Having lived in Wyoming for most of my life and also Chicago growing up, I always had snow in winter.

Image Source: http://jokes-web.com/images/articles/GrandTetonsinWinterWyoming.jpg

Here in North Carolina, it is rare.  When it does appear and a lovely thin blanket covers eastern North Carolina, the whole of society shuts down.  The milk, bread, and eggs are wiped clean off all grocery shelves, including Dollar Stores and Dollar Tree Stores.  It is hilarious.  I am used to snowstorms thick as buses and drifts to prove it.  

I miss winter a lot.  But when it is below zero in Wyoming with a windchill of twenty below, I think about, well maybe, I’m not so fond of deep winter – cold and wet.  I do miss looking outdoors or being greeted by a crisp clean, fresh-white Wyoming snow-covered morning.  I do miss that indeed.  A fresh layer of snow gives one a new perspective on scenery and place.

But crisp air and scarves make me quite happy too.   I also delight in slipping on a pair of gloves and getting my fingers toasty warm.  There is also something very elegant about a pair of a woman’s fitted gloves. 

Mom and me on my wedding day, November 2003. A beautiful winter blizzard covered the streets with fresh sparkly snow the night before. My friend from California, MaLisa, said the snow looked like sugary crystals.

My mom update:  she is still alive and cognitive.  I call her about three times a week.  She is pretty deaf so it is hard for her to hear me and have conversations on the phone.  I am planning on visiting her again either in February or March. 

I am an official graduate.  I have a Master in English with a concentration in Creative Writing. 

Graduating from the English Department ceremony

Yeah me.  I worked very hard on this task.  I attended evening classes for two years (2009-2011), then enrolled full-time last spring. 

I am now looking into making a career change.  I am meeting with a career counselor from my university this week.  I am really excited about the future, as it holds so many more possibilities now that I have a master’s degree in a field I love: creative writing. 

So, what is your favorite winter activity?  I like to be a hermit and read and write and sit by the fireplace.  And of course, drink hot tea with lemon and honey.  I don’t get too much down time with a toddler, so it is cuddling by the fire watching Thomas the Train.  We recently got a virus and were SICK.  Enough said.  Anyway, I watched a lot of Thomas the Train videos on Netflicks.  I kinda dig that Thomas.  My husband loves British comedy.  I think I even caught him once watching Monty Python and multi-tasking watching Ben. 

Well, that is the 411 on my life these days.  Oh, I almost forgot to share.  I totally sucked at Christmas gifts this year.  I just couldn’t take the pressure.  I got Ben some cool toys, but my poor husband got lame gifts.  We just are not materialistic people so gift giving is hard.  And we have been so frugal since I quit my job as a teacher to be a stay-at-home mom.  (Or should I say cook, dishwasher, cleaning lady, child care attendant).  It is a sacrifice that I am happy I made.   But shit, I miss my income!

Ben

But I certainly realize and have much more respect for stay-at-home moms and my parents and parents in general. 

Well, answer the poll if you’d like and we’ll check in with each other in a bit.  Sorry I am a lame hermit elusive blogger these past two months.  I liken myself with that of the moose, elusive and mysterious.  Happy wintering.

Photo Credit: http://www.historicalstockphotos.com/images/xsmall/991_dog_sledding.jpg

Take the poll please! What is your favorite winter activity?

By the way, it is 70 degrees here today on February 1 in eastern North Carolina.  Unseasonably warm.  I’m looking forward to the next cold snap.

Messenger

Cardinal

Cardinals remind me 

of childhood 

of my father 

of my yard out front 

they remind me of depth 

of colors 

of things I don’t understand 

I used to send my father messages through the birds when he died 

I didn’t know how to reach him so far below the belly of sorrow 

the birds were calm and knew things I did not 

so I sent him messages 

through the birds 

when I see a cardinal 

I know it’s my father sending 

me a message 

memomuse