Lately, it has crossed my mind that I am becoming rather dull. I work from home, so have no reason to leave the house most days. We often have friends and family over on weekends to share supper, but we don't go far or try many new things on our days off. I am perfectly content puttering around the house, caring for my animals and other mundane things. Should I be bothered by this? I wondered. Then I came across an article published in The Atlantic that made me feel better. It had this to say:
"Research has shown that when people get older, they commonly recalibrate their goals; though they might be doing less, they tend to prioritize what they find meaningful and really appreciate it. A decline in openness to experience, then, could reflect someone relishing their routine rather than seeking new thrills; a decline in extroversion could indicate that they’re satisfied spending time with the people they already love. That may involve adjusting to what they can’t control, but it doesn’t necessarily mean they’re reacting to a bad life—just a different one."
I feel validated by this simple paragraph, and I have ceased to worry if there is something wrong with me that I am not rushing out and about with greater frequency. I decided to spend the time I was being concerned by thinking about my dullness to something else. And that something else keeps bubbling up in my brain arranged in these words, "An embarrassment of riches."
Let me explain. March in Maine is a rather dismal affair. Tattered remnants of grimy snow linger over otherwise brown terrain. Storms are common, both rain and snow and sometimes a dicey mix of the two. Winds whip and rattle, and there is often quite a lot of treacherous ice to maneuver. Though the days are steadily growing longer, it does one little good to yearn for actual spring weather, because it is rarely in the cards. And yet, there are these little gems that appear if I am looking. And I am. Last week I was out just after dawn hauling hay and warm water to the goats. It was bitterly cold, the wind burned my ears, and I wished I'd worn a hat. I tucked my head as I trudged, arms full, over the snow and ice. Above the crunch of my boots I heard a sound that made me stop and poke my head out of my collar like a turtle might to look around.
On the western side of our property, at the very top of a large tree, was a male Cardinal. The rising sun illuminated his bright feathers, making him glow ember-bright. He threw his head back and sang loudly into the still, chill air. I put the hay and water down and listened to his concert until he dove off his branch in search of breakfast. And this afternoon as I cleaned the chicken coop, I heard the sweet call of a Bluebird, over and over. Also, a few Red-winged blackbirds have appeared at the feeder, having recently migrated back for the breeding season. They will soon be joined by many more, and the air will be filled with their cheery chorus, a sure sign of spring.
The goats prefer to rest outside in the spent hay more often than in their snug house, enjoying the sun's warming rays. And, to my great surprise, I found a very sure sign of spring today. I did a double take to make sure I hadn't imagined it. Daffodils are pushing up through the still-frozen ground, precipitately embracing the growing season.
Beyond this, I feel an intense appreciation for my interactions with my customers daily. Last week, a handful of particularly fascinating conversations happened while I was washing, brushing, and trimming, each leaving me feeling richer for having had them. It's as if each of these people wove a gift of words during the time we shared, not seeming to notice the impact they imparted. Some may share the feeling, as one lady recently laughed and said, "Honestly, I feel like I've had an hour of good therapy when I leave here!" And then there are the people who welcome the grandbabies that toddle about as we work into their laps for a story, or even plunk right down on the floor to play with toys. It is a benevolence that sends ripples of gratitude through my day.
In my snug home, with beauty outside every window, a full pantry, and all of my needs met, I can't help but look at my life right here and now as being filled with riches—an embarrassment of them.
