Peace in the Creek

There’s something about green leaves around a watery pool that melts my heart. Must have something to do with all those summers in the Catskills, climbing up to the waterfalls.

Our little family finally caught COVID. I say finally because it felt inevitable and, sure enough, we caught it on our vacation out west.

It was a strange and terrible virus for us. We were as sick as we’ve ever been.

Isolation can always be hard.

With three little kids, we came to a point at which some of us had finished coughing and feeling crummy, while others had lingering symptoms.

We were in need of sunshine, the outdoors, and a return to something normal to raise spirits and take in vitamin D. In the midst of a heat wave, I tried to think of a quiet, isolated place for us to go.

Thankfully, the Brandywine River runs through our town (and several towns surrounding us). It wasn’t too hard to find an empty parking lot where we could walk to a creek access point for some gentle splashing and wading.

Bingo.

I never felt better in my life.

There was no one around. The shade and cool running water were intoxicating. We’ve been so blessed with membership to a swimming pool this summer that I nearly forgot about the magic of the creek.

Nature is an elixir.

Returning to nature felt like a return to ourselves.

I made sure not to spend too much time in the heat. I made sure to limit our playtime so as not to tire anyone out or push us too much.

But the water was so healing. The quiet babble of the water over stones, the birds chirping, a car driving in the distance; it all seemed to take us away from ourselves.

It was so joyful. And so peaceful. And everyone smiled and laughed and played for what felt like the first time in a long time.

What brought you peace this week? Share the peace!

Peace in Paddle Boating

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Recently, Hubs took all three kiddos out on a paddle boat. It was so fun to see them learning this new activity. None of them has tried it before. Paddling, steering, floating, all in a tiny boat intended for two, stuffed like a burrito with Hubs and three little bobbing heads.

They were so curious and interested. They were so determined to learn the rules of this process. They must have been asking themselves:

  • How fast do we need to pedal?
  • How does this steering work?
  • How can we go faster?
  • Will we hit the dock?
  • Who’s turn is it next?

Watching this process brought me supreme joy. Knowing there was no destination ahead of them felt even more delicious. No need to go from one end of the lake to the other. No need to race. No need to explore every inch of the shore. No need for anything but play.

It struck me, almost immediately, that this is what life is all about. This is where we find the peace of our incredible universe. In “play.” In “time.” When we remove the need for some kind of outcome, things fall into place.

It left me grateful and peaceful.

What brought you peace this week? Share the peace!

Peace in My Little Pilea

More than a year ago, I bought a little pilea plant and named her Pilar. She lived in my bathroom for a while, in a pretty blue glazed terra cotta pot, enjoying the humidity and growing all fine and dandy.

But she wasn’t producing pups. Or at least, not many. In over a year’s time, she sprouted only one, which I gave to my mother-in-law in the tiniest pot I owned.

This year, for reasons I can’t even describe, I decided Pilar should live in the family room. There are a ton of large windows with great light in there. I figured she might brighten up the space, especially since her leaves are so unique and fun.

And guess what happened?

3 months in the family room led to……

3 new pups!!!!!

They have roots and leaves and are growing just perfectly. I love that sometimes a change of scenery is just what the doctor ordered— even for plants!

I took the greatest pleasure is repotting one of the pups with my son this week. We brought Pilar outside to the side porch, dug down into the soil, found the perfect spot to break the root, and created a new space for a new plant. It was so much fun and brought so much peace. I keep mini terra cotta pots and saucers in my potting shed for just this occasion. Finding use for a pot brings me so much joy.

What brought you peace this week? Share the peace!

Peace in a Rose Bush

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I was sitting on the porch a few days ago, taking in the breeze and trying hard to focus on absolutely nothing. In the winter, Hubs and I pulled our porch railings off and mused at how nice this was.

“We’ll be able to see more of the roses this way,” Hubs said.

It was a funny thing to say in the middle of winter, but that’s how Hubs thinks: ahead.

Since our porch is pretty low to the ground, it doesn’t require railings. Seeing the porch in a whole new way was awesome. And now that summer is finally here (practically) and the roses have come in, it’s feeling especially lovely.

Today I noticed the roses and thought how much they are like people. The bush is a community. And each rose, each leaf, each tiny part has a purpose that makes the entirety of the rose bush stunning. I was so thankful, looking at the roses, and even more thankful to notice how much I loved the entire bush: the green, oval leaves, the brilliant blooming pink petals, the buds not yet ready to open, but eagerly preparing themselves, and even the dying buds. Truthfully! I love the tactile process of deadheading– it’s so satisfying, though I can’t explain why.

Everything about those beautiful rose bushes amaze me. This year, I had to move one of the five we keep. I uprooted it and did a pretty poor job of the task. And yet….the bush is slowly growing in its new spot. And next year, it will be nearly back to itself. Not quite, but well on its way. I know this. Because plants are resilient and roses are as tough as they come.

I’m so thankful to have learned at least a little about plants to know what to expect each year. And some years, when a bloom is not performing, or a plant needs something else to help guide its growth, I know how to help, and I know that even if conditions aren’t perfect this year, there will always be next year.

All of this makes me think of life. Those roses are so much like people. And what’s pretty cool is this: it’s possible to love every bit and every part of something. Because each part of the bush serves a critical function to make the entirety as beautiful as it is.

I’m not much of a religious person these days. But if there is a “God” or some kind of master creator, I’d like to think she planned things this way: to give each part of a greater whole some incredible purpose, merely to create beauty and wonder. I’d like to think there is some force out there that loves everyone, no matter if they’re a rose or a thorn, because they all work together to achieve something magnificent.

I’d like to think there’s something down inside of me that can love everyone, from petal to thorn, because we’re all working together in some mystical, unexplainable way.

Thinking these thoughts brought me peace this week. What about you? What brought you peace? Share the peace.