I blogged not too long ago about how we were stepping out in faith, moving with no job locked in for my husband.
We’re moved in, back to the mountains of West Virginia from which I sprung (–sprang? had sprung?). I never thought I’d come back. It felt like the mountains suffocated me with their trees and limited sky-scapes.
Turns out, they’ve been waiting for me to return. They comfort me. I spend at least 10 minutes a couple times a day, just sitting on my porch, watching the trees and the light. I do this whether it’s raining or sunny.
My poetic soul fills up every time I look out over my green yard. I can watch hummingbirds fight (or is it mate?), without neighbors viewing my every move. My kids can run and jump in the yard that is big enough that the doggie can do her doo-doo far away from the house, unlike our old yard. I can’t really capture how my cup is running over, job or no job. Book contract or no book contract.
West Virginia has given me perspective. It’s not all about platform. It’s about living.
And here’s a photo of what West Virginia means to me right now. This is my front yard:
****What about you? Is your muse alive and alert in the city, suburb or country? Where do you go to absorb the beauty of creation?****