It’s a grey day on the south coast. If you’re an Oregonian, you know what I mean without explanation. The sky is overcast in a high grey dome. It has been misting, though now the mist has turned to a steady drizzle. A slight fog has drifted in so that even the air is grey. It seems to absorb the sound of the world. It’s a quiet time for us.

 We’ve spent the day reading and writing after a quick round of dishwashing and vacuuming by Lydia. I’ve walked the dog and started a small pot of potato soup for supper (A bit of bacon fried with onions and celery, a roux with butter and flour, milk and three red potatoes). We are a bit like two monks, taking care of our earthly needs between rounds of quiet contemplation. (It is only a moderately accurate simile as our contemplation is more in the nature of screen time and research. Lyd is working on ancestry research and I’ve been arranging flights and tickets to Spring Training baseball and an Eagles concert.  We work in quiet company however and it is a time of unspoken togetherness shared.)

William Stafford used to get up early every morning, make a cup of instant coffee, and lie under a throw on his couch in the dark to think and write. I think that this was a habit developed during WW II. Detained by the government for refusing to enlist in the military (he was a pacifist), he spent most of the war in prison work camps in Arkansas and California (see his book Down in My Heart). He and the other detainees would get up before the required work time to read together, discuss pacifism and social responsibility. Rising early was a habit he retained through out his life. It was his quiet time.

Like Stafford, I rise early, though I do it because it is a habit developed from many years of needing to be up and off to work early in the morning. Retired, I still get up by 4:00 am most days. It is my other quiet time.  I make a press of coffee and read by lantern light until Lydia wakes up or Annie needs her walk. I usually have two or three hours alone. It is the time when I hash out my next post, when I decide what I want to say and share. I am thankful for the time. So much of what I wanted to say was left unwritten while we raised our children. Then, my early time was just getting prepared for the day. Now I have the time to gather my thoughts and lay them down on paper.

Lydia has her time in the evening after I head off to bed. She listens to music, does needlework, and reads. We have different circadian rhythms but, it works for us. We have our time together and we have our time for ourselves. I’m not sure this time in our lives is what either of us envisioned 47 years ago. Now, though after so many years of work and effort it’s what we need. Just each other and quiet time.

 

Blessings

The Road