Wednesday, February 9, 2011
I wish there was some way to share what I see every morning. What a joy to sit at the table on our back veranda, with a cup of coffee and sweet Bailey at my feet, and watch the jungle come alive as the mist rises. In a way I feel guilty that we're experiencing such glorious weather when the States are struggling with miserable storms.
I catch fleeting glimpses of the little redstart warbler. He's as fast and erratic as the hummingbird. Much of the time they're only a sound or a movement in the trees. Then that flash of color. The tiny black & white warbler is an occasional visitor. The parrots start their day as the mist rises, but the chachalacas wait for the sun to be out to start communicating with each other.
I look out on our paths, mottled by the sun, that meander through the trees. The hammock invites us to lie back, relax and look up into the trees. I've made labels for the medicine plants along the paths, for visitors, but actually for me too. Rene was having to keep reminding me of the names. Sometimes I think my memory is a sieve, leaking out more than it's taking in. Anyway, the labels help.
We're so pleased by the way we positioned the house. The front is towards the east and gets the morning sun, which helps get rid of the nighttime dampness. The back is shaded by the trees so it never gets really hot. If there's any breeze at all, it comes around the north end of the house and keeps the area around the table cool.
The beauty and gentleness of it all is like a soft prayer.
Art & I love to dream and plan. If we had the money, this would make a lovely retreat. Imagine a thatched roof cabana, nestled at the edge of the trees, surrounded by flowers. The Mopan river is at the bottom of the hill, inviting you to cool off. We envision an outdoor kitchen where we could share a cool lime drink from the fruit of our trees, or a meal. What a dream.