Today the mundane ritual of retrieving the morning paper aroused a dormant migratory desire and positioned it squarely in contrast with my deep appreciation for being home. And as I considered this, it became readily apparent that these conflicting desires would neither resolve nor relent on their own.
As I slipped out through my front door the effects of the transformation were immediate. I was in Seattle. No, I was not transported to Seattle in a literal sense. Rather, in a way, it was brought to me. Seattle has been 1,700 miles (2,735km) to the west-northwest of Omaha for many millennia…and there it remains. But the smells, the climatic feel and the pure sounds of early morning nature were very much responsible for whisking me away, imagination and all, back into the Great Northwest.
OK, so there are no mountains, no Puget Sound or Lake Washington in Omaha. There are few cedars or firs and there are no bears in our back yard.
And I don’t remember the last salmon run in Nebraska. But this morning it was 50 degrees and slightly damp and overcast. There was a fresh little breeze that cleared the air of everything except the sweet sounds of the many returning migratory birds. The morning air was full and empty at the same time. It was gorgeous!
I walked slowly down the drive, carefully taking in everything that the morning had to offer. I noticed the greening grass contrasted against the still barren trees. I looked at our neighbors houses up and down the winding road where we've called home for almost seventeen years. Then recalling my purpose, I slowly stooped and clutched the morning newspaper. Standing again I felt the cool breeze sweping past with the fond memories of the friends with whom we shared an equally gorgeous evening the night before. I thought of the fellowship born of much talk and laughter as the "food, wine and deck season" finally returned to Omaha, drawing good friends from their dwellings like the winter's frost from the ground. I drew in several deep breaths and then turned and thoroughly enjoyed my leisurely stroll back to the house. Wow, no WOW! I love this early spring weather. And I love our home.
Perhaps due to the pleasant outdoor conditions or perhaps due to some fundamental longing in my heart, I really felt the sense of being within striking distance of the mountains, the water, the seafood and the wine of my favorite domestic vacation spot. And moreover, I truly felt the sense of being within hugging distance of our most remote daughter J. I rushed into the house, grabbed my coffee and quickly dashed through the rear exit and onto the deck. There I witnessed the frailty of the rising sun as it attempted to break through the morning’s brume. As I struggled to maintain this transcendent feeling I caught myself humming the melody of the only country song that I’ve ever really loved…John Denver’s “Take Me Home Country Roads.” And as I stood there at home scanning the western sky, I sensed the presence of Mt. Rainier veiled behind the soft morning haze.
As I slipped out through my front door the effects of the transformation were immediate. I was in Seattle. No, I was not transported to Seattle in a literal sense. Rather, in a way, it was brought to me. Seattle has been 1,700 miles (2,735km) to the west-northwest of Omaha for many millennia…and there it remains. But the smells, the climatic feel and the pure sounds of early morning nature were very much responsible for whisking me away, imagination and all, back into the Great Northwest.
OK, so there are no mountains, no Puget Sound or Lake Washington in Omaha. There are few cedars or firs and there are no bears in our back yard.
And I don’t remember the last salmon run in Nebraska. But this morning it was 50 degrees and slightly damp and overcast. There was a fresh little breeze that cleared the air of everything except the sweet sounds of the many returning migratory birds. The morning air was full and empty at the same time. It was gorgeous!I walked slowly down the drive, carefully taking in everything that the morning had to offer. I noticed the greening grass contrasted against the still barren trees. I looked at our neighbors houses up and down the winding road where we've called home for almost seventeen years. Then recalling my purpose, I slowly stooped and clutched the morning newspaper. Standing again I felt the cool breeze sweping past with the fond memories of the friends with whom we shared an equally gorgeous evening the night before. I thought of the fellowship born of much talk and laughter as the "food, wine and deck season" finally returned to Omaha, drawing good friends from their dwellings like the winter's frost from the ground. I drew in several deep breaths and then turned and thoroughly enjoyed my leisurely stroll back to the house. Wow, no WOW! I love this early spring weather. And I love our home.
Perhaps due to the pleasant outdoor conditions or perhaps due to some fundamental longing in my heart, I really felt the sense of being within striking distance of the mountains, the water, the seafood and the wine of my favorite domestic vacation spot. And moreover, I truly felt the sense of being within hugging distance of our most remote daughter J. I rushed into the house, grabbed my coffee and quickly dashed through the rear exit and onto the deck. There I witnessed the frailty of the rising sun as it attempted to break through the morning’s brume. As I struggled to maintain this transcendent feeling I caught myself humming the melody of the only country song that I’ve ever really loved…John Denver’s “Take Me Home Country Roads.” And as I stood there at home scanning the western sky, I sensed the presence of Mt. Rainier veiled behind the soft morning haze.
Not sure if you noticed this, but the deck heater "almost" looks like the Space Needle! :)
ReplyDeleteAhh yes...the image is now complete!
ReplyDeleteNice catch.