Someone once told me that the soul travels slower than the body. Little One and I have been back in London for almost a week, but I still feel like part of my soul is still in the wide plains of central Canada, staring the the clouds scudding across the sky, moving endlessly towards some imagined horizon.
Little One loves the story "The Big Red Barn," by Margaret Wise Brown, and any time we drove through the farmland she would start reciting the verses for memory. "By the big red barn in the ancient field, there was a pink pig, learning to squeal. There was a big white horse, and a very little horse..." etc. It was so wonderful to see her discovering a new landscape.
Landscapes, buildings and objects change the way we move and think. This is a thought I'm working through slowly. I stand differently in my house here in London, compared to my mom's house in Canada. Neither is better or worse, but just different. I breathe differently. I have different expectations. The pace is different. The light is different. The scale and proportions are different. And all these things mix together to create a recipe for a different way of being. I love being able to experience both, to savour both, and I'm going to spend more time thinking about this as the weeks slide into autumn. (Seasons do the same thing to us, and I'm wondering how different I will feel as the days draw in? Will my posture change? My cravings? My daily requirements?)
Those were a few thoughts on the nature of travel.
And here are few things I loved about being home in Canada....
1. Quiet. The wide, tree lined streets, with boughs creating arches as grand as the tallest European cathedral. The light slanting through the leaves as though they were stained glass windows.
2. Big skies. Extending infinitely. Clouds building structures above. Evaporated architecture.
3. Tall stacks of books to read, borrowed from my mom. And the anticipation of hours of inspiration as the seasons change.
4. Sitting in my dad’s thinking spot (thinking thoughts).
5. The quiet sounds of the house while the baby is napping. The fridge snoring (as baby describes it's hum), the floors creaking gently, and the deep breath of relaxation.
6. Evening walks after an early supper. Pushing the buggy part of the way. Letting Little One race on the sidewalk between the driveways as fast as she can, blue-glitter shoes glinting in the evening light. Then back in the buggy to push the worn-out girl home for bedtime stories and kisses.
Rain washing the dust away.
Morning coffee routines: planning the day ahead
Coffee and Fools and Horses in Winnipeg
Brave, solitary trees, standing strong in the wind.
Grain elevators = prairie skyscrapers
Windmills harnessing the natural power of the open plains
Roads disappearing towards an imagined horizon, which keeps moving forwards as we move forwards.
Story time and cuddles.