Beltane Waxing Flower Moon
Most of my life happens at a right turn off a moderately busy secondary road somewhere in the heartland of the North American continent. This thought crossed my mind as I retrieved the orange fluorescent sign for our garage sale, the one posted at the corner of 153rd Ave. NW and Round Lake Boulevard.
When I turned back into our lot, then went back in the house, I realized how rich and thick the world is inside our house and how thin it is on the road leading up to it. That’s not to say there’s nothing of interest along the way, of course there is. Other people’s rich thick worlds for one thing. The life of the oak, acacia and poplar woods that surrounds our homes for another.
My comment is not so much about the thin world leading up to our door as the contrast between my experience of our home and of that space. In here we have taken pains to have rooms devoted to particular needs. In those rooms our life has taken place, at least our domestic life, for just at 15 years. Memories.
We create here, too. Kate quilts; I write. We create a life together, a buttress of support for our family and our selves. The garden and the flower beds, now multiple, have years of labor represented in their current configuration, labor that has made this place an intimate acquaintance.
This is home. Home is where the heart is, yes, but it also where life is.
