Sunday, December 2, 2012

The Comfort of Wild Things

There's just something about the night sky that comforts me and helps to put things into perspective. Whether it's the sweep of stars, witness to all that we mortals have done, or the unruffled indigo stretching as far as the eye can see, I'm not sure, but I am constantly drawn to my deck on a clear night. If you stand quietly in the dark and empty your mind of all the unimportant things that clog us up each day, you can almost feel the heavens breathing in and out, full of life and promise that all will be well. And while we dream on our earthly plane, order is kept in the universe.

A new sketchbook for night drawings.
 So at 4:30 on Tuesday morning, before preparing to leave for the hospital, I wandered out to the deck to contemplate the sky and commune with nature before releasing control of my life to others, not an easy thing for me to do. The first thing I noticed was the stillness. Most of the Thanksgiving visitors have departed, full of turkey and good cheer. This left the streets in darkness with little light pollution, allowing for the stars to shine their brightest for those of us that make this island our home. Never have I seen such brilliance, perhaps because of the uncertainty I was feeling.

I should have known that besides all of my well-wishers of the human variety, another being would appear to offer his own version of, "Get well because I love the treats you leave me each night." My friend Silver appeared, climbing onto the picnic table where he can count on finding a pile of sunflower seeds each night. I've told you about this old fellow before. We've been friends for years. I have sketched him over and over again and was lucky to be able to do so on this cold morning. He's getting older and I have no idea how many more years I will have with him. When the time came for me to go inside and prepare for the day ahead, Silver took his leave, ambling over to the trumpet vine where he shimmied down using his gorgeous pink tail to keep a firm grip.

Notice his tail wrapped tightly around the vine.

I am happy to say I am quickly returning to normal and am anticipating enjoying many night skies with Silver by my side.

"I know perfectly well that at this moment the whole universe is listening to us, and that every word we say echoes to the remotest star."                             -   Jean Giraudoux


  1. Your visual art and your writing are such a gift to me. Arriving on Sundays, they are the only prayers and comfort my soul needs.

    1. That is the most meaningful compliment I have ever received. Sunday is my favorite day and nature is my comfort too. Thank you.

  2. I've re-read your Sunday post a number of really touched me. It occurs to me that if you were to take the first paragraph of your Sunday entry and lay it out just a bit differently on the page, not changing a word or punctuation mark, only the structure, then give it a title, it becomes a beautiful and amazing poem, all on its own. It's rare that creatives are equally gifted in two talents, as you are. So those of us who notice are doubly blessed. Thank you.

    1. Oh my goodness. Thanks for the high praise. I just write what I feel. And a letter will be on its way soon! Thank you for the lovely words.