11.17.13 The beavers are actively preparing for Winter now, so Native Americans called this month’s moon, the Beaver Moon. All night long, my first night back home in nearly a week, the sky, filled with moisture-laden clouds, was a luminous white and the waves were rhythmically hitting the shore. I was so tired, and went to bed so early, but knew I would not sleep well. There was too much to process. But, it didn’t matter. I knew I’d just breathe in that lovely moonlight, relax to the sound of the water, and feel peace and refuge in being home.
These are Hard Times in Don’s life, and how he’ll need this refuge, whenever he is able to come home again. He has had to move his father into a nursing home and there will be many trips back and forth to Colorado. He is actively preparing his Dad for Winter now; and at some point soon, death will be in the making there.
I, however, was providing care for my Billings grandchildren, at the other end of the cycle of life. In gorgeous autumn sunshine and fluttering dry golden leaves, I walked my seven-year old granddaughter, with her Pippi Longstocking pigtails, to and from school. I did greater-or-lesser than math on the computer with my nine-year old grandson, and I learned about how invasive species impact the ecosystem in Yellowstone from my twelve-year-old grandson. And, on my last night there, the boys and I walked back to their home in the dark under the huge Beaver Moon rising in the eastern sky.
Like the moon setting this morning over the water, the cycle of life goes on and on– in Hard Times and Good Times, in Summer and in Winter. The rhythm is always there.