Late on a weekend afternoon, with dinner in the oven and needing no tending from me, I looked around and saw everyone miraculously and thoroughly engaged. The baby snuggled into Papa's sling, slowly dancing their way through the funky pre-dinner hour. One boy with headphones at the tree swing. And three little ones out front building slushy snow people and shoveling off the pond in hopes of ice skating.
No squabbles to settle, no cleaning or cooking or work that demanded my attention that very moment, I slipped out the back door, camera in hand, and found my way to the sheep pasture. They'd already been brought hay just an hour earlier, and with the light shifting towards dark, were just about to get settled in for the night. It was quiet in that wintry, foggy, dreamy kind of way that's unlike any other. And the sheep, so calm themselves. Still cautious (sheepish, after all), but trusting. They exude peace - a majestic peace, I dare say - and it was a pleasure to sit with these girls for a long while, until I couldn't see through the dark and fog any longer, and I knew that dinner and my people were calling. Making my way back to the house, my breath was slower, my steps more thoughtful....my heart most certainly full of gratitude.
My head is still there in that sheep pasture this Monday morning...and I have every intention of carrying it with me, in my heart anyway, into our week of work and play to come.
Wishing the same peace of heart for you, too, as you begin your week.