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| Two trees who hold each other on Townsend Road, Addison Township |
Well into Michigan’s sedentary season, I awoke
this morning wanting a muddy walk. Other than a hike downhill to the henhouse and
back uphill with eggs in my pockets, I’ve not spent much time outdoors the past
several winters.
After
my bathroom scales found the five pounds I’d lost while gardening last summer,
I laced my hiking boots the second time this winter. I resolved to walk at
least twenty minutes before my desk impaled me for the day.
An occupational
hazard.
During Christmas
vacation, Kelly, my California daughter (the offspring who gifted me a 1,000
piece puzzle) asked if I’d like to take a short walk. Our favorite route, a
long, steep downhill/uphill trek, features the restored, historic Townsend barn
on the hilltop.
Kelly and her
younger sister learned to drive on Townsend’s rutty, dirt road, often avoiding
potholes deep and wide enough to bury them in our used Chrysler Le Baron. Ruth,
our youngest child, the family’s “Braveheart,” learned to drive during the
movie’s release and pothole season in 1995. Twenty-five years ago.
Enough time to
forget that walking in the morning revives such blessed memories. I also recalled
my two trees who hold each other, which I forgot to greet when Kelly and I
passed them. Per my former ritual, this morning I touched the trees, a hand on
each, felt the furrows in their bark.
Praise God, they still
stand.
In the quiet,
leafless atmosphere, I aimed again toward the sound of hammering, just as Kelly
and I walked toward the whine of an electric saw several days ago. When we
turned onto our neighbor’s drive, we beheld the most magnificent barn graced
with a cupola.
My neighbor worked
amongst piles of wood with his saw.
“Hello, Sabastian!
I brought my daughter to see your barn,” I said.
He offered his
usual smile. “Go on inside!”
We climbed the
stairs from the lower floor of horse stables to the upper room of the behemoth
building.
“This is huge!”
Kelly said.
“Sabastian dreams
big,” I replied.
“He sure does.”
Perhaps that’s why
the hammer called my name again this morning. To witness the fulfillment of his
dream and resolve in progress—with his two hands and tools of his trade in very
uncomfortable weather.
A builder’s occupational
hazard.
At the bottom of
Townsend’s hill, I admired Sabastian’s handiwork without notice, then scaled the
road back home more grateful than ever for neighbors who cherish barns and
horses and hay fields.
And relieved I dream
of writing stories in the comfort of a heated or air-conditioned study,
depending on the weather, I returned to my desk.
Dear Reader, I
resisted the pull of Kelly’s 1,000-piece puzzle, one fifth completed, until
after I parked my boots in the basement and completed the day’s commitment to
stories.
Tomorrow morning, Lord willing, I’ll test my resolve again after hen chores with a walk, return home for sunny side up eggs and toast with honey.
Sit, and dream big.
