A Piece of Stillness

I sit beside the hound as our week of quiet draws to its conclusion. Tomorrow, with all the family gathered together again, the house will be filled with talk and laughter but for now, it’s me, Dukie and the simple stillness.

We enjoy a rare moment; sunshine and rain appear hand in hand in the garden and I smile with sheer happiness at the thought that there’s a rainbow lurking shyly nearby.

We’ve had a beautiful week, my daughter and I. Often I wish I could reach into time and hold it still forever. Like Marvell, whose witty, wonderful and sobering work we are just beginning to commit to memory, ‘at my back I always hear, time’s winged chariot hurrying near.’ Now that she is ten, I know that we are closer to the end of her childhood years than we are to their beginning.

Our days were punctuated by the usual homeschooling cadences, so much second nature to us now, that we swim with ease. We completed our slow read of Sense and Sensibility and moved seamlessly to Hartfield for Emma‘s shenanigans, as infatuated with Jane as ever.

There were moments, during this week of elongated days, where solitude crept up beside me and snuggled close in shared dreams. It‘s been a time of deep stillness in many respects, even the hound seemed to sense it. Often, during these periods where our household unit shrinks, he becomes bellicose; as if auditioning for the role of man of the house. This week however, for the most part, he has remained as tame as a lamb.

I gaze out at our tiny patio bejeweled with flowers. A hummingbird zips by to say hello. He hovers for a split second at the feeder as the breezes and sunlight twirl back and forwards in their eternal dance, blowing flickering shadows onto the window panes. As the rain retreats across the sky, I hear the trickling music from the water fountain and the moment softens into limpidity, all of its own accord.