This afternoon I decided to go out with the children, despite many rumors of black ice, frigid temperatures and freezing rain. We were sick of the house, have had company for more than two weeks (don't even get me started on that one right now- it's a whole blog post of it's own), needed some space and hadn't yet done our yearly ritual of gathering greens for an Advent Wreath on our home nature table. Usually I start the nature-based advent rituals in the beginning of December, but since we just unpacked enough to get the nature table out from under some boxes and put in it's official spot, today was the day.
I got the babies ridiculously bundled for the Chariot ride, and then stepped out to find out that as usual, my fellow Oregonians are completely over-reacting, because I found the weather to be mild and pleasant, in a wintery and nippy kind of way. There was minimal ice to slip on, no precipitation and a lovely thick mist in the air. A very small portion of the canal had some floating ice (okay weather eggageraters, I'll give you that!). We had a really nice time picking out greens to clip. I would point and Reya would help me choose before I cut each piece. She especially likes the plants with little red berries, like Holly and Laurel. She was completely into the process, and Galen appeared to be watching in silent wonderment and content. It is so awesome to be back in a lush environment where so many different trees are all around, and thriving in health.
Along the tree-snipping adventure, we had the pleasure of viewing several animals enjoying the early dusk. It was really hard to photograph them, because the camera was hard to hold perfectly still while the shutter moved slowly enough for the dim light out, which is why the pictures are both dark and blurry, but I wanted to put them up here, anyway. This is the first Nutria that we have gotten this close to. A lot of people think they are unpleasant creatures, but this evening I found my self drawn to them, as they went about their business, eating the tall grass along side the canal, and slipping away into their holes when they felt uncomfortable with our eyes on them.
I saw one young one, alongside what I guessed to be it's mother. Very sweet.
Many ducks were sitting together in remarkable stillness along the bank, as well. I wonder if they were nestling down to keep warm?
In the dimming evening, my babies both nodded off to dreamland. The lovely, moist air and silence floated blissfully around me. I walked moderately, savoring the space, energized by my own movements, and let tensions slip away as I settled into a rare enjoyment of solitude. I heard a rustle, and drew in my breath in delight when I realized that it wasn't more nutria, but a pair of young raccoons peeking curiously from the underbrush. We watched each other in fascination, and I attempted a few photos, but it was far too dark, and all I got were some glowing eyes in a midnight background (not worth posting). I walked for another hour, into the deepening night, up hills, down slopes and into my wandering mind.
I now live in a beautiful, wooded location in Eugene, Oregon's south hills. I got really lucky with a super-affordable duplex in a great area. This is my third residence in the short 9 months that I have been back in Oregon, and moving is a pain in my behind, for sure, but I have to say that each time I do it, life gets better. I am fine tuning the living arrangements with every adjustment. We are nowhere near unpacked yet, since this move came smack in the middle of Summer term in college, but I pulled it off, and now that school is done for the next month, I have time to organize and get settled. One of my favorite things about my new house is the view out of my living and dining room windows. We have mondo-sized grey squirrels, raccoon families and several dear that hang out just feet from my living space. In these pics from yesterday, a Mama doe and her two fawns have come up to socialize with my Henry duck, in his coop/yard area just outside of the window where I eat breakfast. So sweet.
