Year's End

We've been visiting my family for a couple of days.  Odd days, outside of time.  The primary reason for our trip was, of course, to spend some time with my dad and his wife.  They define courage, there in their little house in the woods: she battling the cancer in her lungs and her brain, and he taking care of her every need ~ neither of them able to whip up the miracle they so desperately seek and each of them trying not to let the other see the fear and sadness they both feel.  She is about to finish up her chemo, which has left her without strength or energy, and then will undergo another set of scans to see whether the month of radiation and weeks of chemo have had any significant effect.  The treatments did buy her Christmas, which was not something she could have expected otherwise.  I think that they appreciated our children's presence immensely, and she was able to have a candid, albeit very brief, conversation with me when no one else was around, so the quick journey was worth the effort.

Outside the window, the daytime birds at my father's feeder were wonderful: goldfinches, house finches, juncoes, chickadees, tufted titmice, white-throated sparrows, a pair of towhees, and a Carolina wren -- all endlessly cheered by the bounty he provides.  A fierce determination to overcome winter prevails both inside and outside the tiny dwelling nestled in the woods and snow.  

We stayed next door, in my grandmother's house, which has just been vacated by my brother and his wife in favor of their newly built home.  With the exception of a few beds and a couch, my grandmother's house, in which I spent so much of my childhood, is empty -- and filthy.  It sits on a beautiful spot on the top of a hill, but it needs everything: city water; plumbing, electrical, and heating revovations; air conditioning; new kitchen, windows, roof, and chimney; and a complete decorating overhaul.  It will be a lovely home for the right person or family, but right now it is a sad ghost of the gracious and serene house of hospitality that my grandmother cared for.   

My brother's hot tub is still there, so I enjoyed a late evening steaming outside as the full moon stretched across the snow and into the woods, turning the world a pale blue.  I was hoping to hear owls, but it was so cold that even the dogs, who can usually be heard baying across the countryside, were quiet, probably having nudged themselves indoors for the night.   

All in all, a disorienting couple of days.  

  My woods, as surveyed from the hot tub on a foggy morning.