I have two daughters, Jessi and Annie, living in New York City and I was thinking of them and how they’ve been locked away in their small apartments now for nearly a quarter of a year. So as I walked up my street in the crisp clear morning air, I felt grateful to be able to enjoy the early light and the exercise. And, even though the day was just beginning, after reading the news as I always do early in the morning, I had begun to be persuaded that perhaps the world was ending. This, of course, was because virtually all the stories I saw were seemingly filled with interminable, worrisome headlines and information. You know what I mean: disease, earthquakes, floods, wind, fires, electrical outages, violence.
“Fresh air, exercise and a change of view is exactly what I need,” I thought as I walked. I was soon to see that I needed a little bit more than just fresh air and exercise because of my neighbors and friends Holly and Gary Christley.
The Christley’s own the land right across the street from me. I enjoy the open green view they generously provide as they grow alfalfa, and sometimes a rotational crop, on the land. On this morning in the middle of May, the alfalfa was beginning to grow tall. I could almost hear it grow, reaching for the sun, but perhaps I was simply hearing the comforting sound of the sprinkler heads throwing and disbursing water from the lengthy irrigation wheel lines and its associative life force recharging the ground.
I was being recharged myself during the four minutes or so it took me to walk up to the driveway entrance of the Christley home. I found comfort and joy in the familiar, peaceful surroundings right up to the moment I saw something unfamiliar, settled in the lush greenery, welcoming visitors to Gary and Holly’s house.
The cute ceramic dog sitting in the foliage near the junction of our street was in its usual spot, but the dog’s variable brown was punctuated with blue. It was now sporting a medical covering; a masked dog snout in the garden. It brought a smile to my face. It lightened my steps. My chuckle joined in with the symphony of irrigation music.
So as I walked up my street in the crisp clear morning air, I felt grateful to be able to enjoy the early light, the exercise and the change of view offered by the Christley’s restorative sense of humor. Perhaps you and I have begun to be persuaded that, imaginably, the world is ending, because we’ve become filled with seemingly interminable, worrisome headlines and information. You know what I mean: disease, earthquakes, floods, wind, fires, electrical outages, violence.
“Fresh air, exercise and a change of view? Yes! And a little humor along the way is exactly what we need,” I thought, as I continued walking through life, made brighter and lighter by the Christley’s good sense of fun.
Lynn Butterfield lives in Erda and is a managing broker for a real estate company.