TheBanyanTree: NORTHERN LIGHTS

[NancyIee at aol.com]

4 8 04
 
This cool, clear morning, I took the dogs out as the eastern sky glowed 
peach. For a moment, I thought it was cloudy, that it might rain later. Then I saw 
the moon, high and half-faced, caught in the treetops, and knew it would be 
another perfect day.
 
The sun and the moon together this month, the sun chasing the late-rising 
moon into the new day.
 
I think Ling caught the scent of the possums in the dewy grass, for she 
lingered and snorted at a few places where I had seen them wander. There’s a family 
living in the woods next door, an adult and two smaller, careless ones. The 
adult was wary of my presence , but the little ones had their own uncaring 
agenda and toddled on their way and on their own adventure without a look in my 
direction.
 
There are a lot of dogs barking this morning. Ling, of course, who has to 
communicate with every passing dog, plus Esko, the Australian Shepherd across the 
way, and Paul and Alex’s three: Remy, the ancient Beagle, Wex their Golden 
Retriever, he’s the one with the big bark, and the newest, a Beagle puppy. The 
beagles don’t bark, of course, but lift their voices in the old Beagle trill. 
And, there are always dogs in the rental property. Last month were two 
middle-aged Golden Retrievers, chubby and waddling. This month, a smaller, more lively 
critter. A sort of hairy terrier type with a quick, tenor chatter. Right now, 
they are all clearing their throats as the early sunburn-seekers head for the 
beach. It matter not if they have seen those same folks every day along, the 
dogs dash out and bark them on their way each time they pass.
 
The day begins. I have my coffee and fry up a plantain. I have so much to do 
today. I am still scraping and touching up the flaked paint on the house 
exterior. I had to buy new paint. The old stuff, stored a few years in the garage, 
was the consistency of pudding.
 
I touch up the house, clean out a drawer or two, bag things for the Goodwill 
or garbage. I still have too much stuff for the new place. Maybe I hope that 
closets will magically appear, space open up, when I bring my too-many 
possessions out there.
 
I get this house ready for sale. I walk the yard., look intently at each 
ancient oak tree, study the pond and the millions of minnows. I remember just when 
I planted the banana trees that still struggle to grow, and the old 
grapefruit that is loaded with new fruit that I will not pick upon ripening. I will be 
gone by then.
 
I have loved this place and its peace. I listen for the song of the surf and 
whisper of breeze in the Spanish moss. It has been a haven for me. I do 
believe it has saved my life on days when things seemed bleakest. I will miss this 
place, and hate to leave it.
 
Yet, I know I must move on. A few friends and others ask how I can bear to 
leave here. I explain that it is becoming too costly to stay, the taxes, the 
fact that most of my assets are tied up in this single plot of ground. I’ll miss 
it more than I could ever explain, but its time to go. I need to start a new 
life, in a smaller, more sensible place.
 
I know there are other places where I can find the peace I need. I have seen 
one or two, one, a citrus grove and a charming log home. Another, ten acres of 
gossiping pines and a cute house with promise. I could be happy there. I love 
the country, the silence, the birds and the vistas and the land.
 
I guess the peace I find is within me rather than in any single place. I know 
my troubles and hurts follow me no matter where I go, so must my peace. My 
sister, Beth, and I used to share a single quote: “No matter where I go, there I 
am.”
 
That's still true.

NancyLee