(Written in early July, shortly after moving to my summer tent home in the Michigan woods. I’m home now, so there’ll be fresh content soon, once I’ve set up the oncoming semester, and dug out from piles of laundry, leaf littler, and dirt.
It’s good to be home.)
The alarm rings, and then the backup alarm, and I pull my slow and heavy body out of the covers and away from the warm body of my sleeping lover. It’s dark still, and I light one small lantern, stumbling into the pile of clothes on the rocking chair, which I had the foresight to lay out the night before.
Knife, lipstick, watch, bandana all go into my pockets, and I slip out of the tent, stopping to quickly water a fern. Dawn is just beginning to lighten the sky above the treetops, and all around me I can feel the dreams of other women, still tucked up in their own tents.
This is my favorite moment of the day- walking out barefoot through the forest, my workboots clutched in one hand, rain gear or bag in the other- dusty leaf litter under me, silent stars above. In a half hour, there will be women to organize, breakfast to cook, problems to solve.
But for this brief moment, when I am awake with just the birds for company, the world couldn’t be more peaceful and beautiful.
They say we should ‘pay’ attention, but really- it’s such a gift.
Until next time,