Lion and Magic Boy

From where I am sitting, I see in front of me a tangle of huge ferns overhung by tall piney trees. Cypress? To my left rises a background of gold: smallish trees submitting to the invitation of autumn above the same green ferny carpet, and farther in the background rise tall, twisted, stately cypress trees.

A 20-minute walk through the forest on a path carpeted with huge golden leaves leads me to the beach, which yesterday afternoon was wild and deserted except by a few raspy-voiced sea birds.

Lying in bed, I peer through the roof into the branches of trees. I am surrounded by trees. Last night I stood under them in the rain. The trees caught all but a few drops and I looked up into their branches, grateful and accepting at the same time, thankful too for those few drops that fell.

I feel embraced here amid the welcoming trees. My tiny indoor space is spare yet contains everything I need. I love how the narrow steps rise behind the tiny kitchen and then surface again on the second level, itself feeling like a simple loft platform floating above the rest of the little house, perched in the trees. If I ever built a treehouse it would feel like this.

It’s a good place to get some writing done, don’t you think?

Yesterday’s travels were a cacophony of sights and sounds, a patchwork of little vignettes pieced together into a day amid the surreality of arising at 3 am and the truths of the awful thing that I learned during the day had almost happened to someone I care about. Like everything, I can trace those vignettes into patterns, a theme for the day, which had everything to do with kindness, patience, and play. Throughout the day I ran across people being playful in the normal course of their work: flight attendants singing in their announcements; TSA ladies lightening up the surly crowd standing in the long, long line; soliticious rental car personnel; bus drivers whose mission it was to ensure everyone knew where they were going after they stepped off his bus.

Ending the day under the trees, and then waking up again in the same magical place, was wonderful.

The sun is out again.