My main distraction on those afternoons were the flying grasshoppers taunting me to chase them, popping wings out and springing a few feet at a time down the weed middled road, light vibrations reverberating in my ears. The rolled hay bales in the backdrop tempted me to leap across their tops, but the high summer sun suggested it better performed in the morning. Gradually something would distract me to another location, Mom would call me, or a fishing pole would tempt me away. This unconscious meditation and connection with the land would, however, nourish and sustain me throughout my childhood.
We have been in Dallas for almost 5 months- another big move, reacquaintance, recreating a home and settling back in after an interrupted stride of life. Most days are walked on that stable soil, occasionally the burden of mud weighs us down. There are fleeting glimpses of drowning and blessed moments of silk. They all make up our lives in a delicate yet invincible recipe. Optimism of silk is on the horizon. The once unconscious connection to slow days, time in nature and moments to breath now quite consciously come full circle and rejuvenate me yet again.