Baby It's Cold Outside
August 11, 2024
Saturday morning and a long list of things to do on a weekend that is always too short. As I drive out to watch the sunrise, I tell myself I’ll just stay until the sun is up and then go home. I have a plan to fit in everything that needs to be done today, as long as I stay on schedule.
I watch the pink spread across the clouds, surprised to find the marina is still fairly quiet, with only a few boats being put in. I watch the pack of mallards fly in and begin preening on the rocks.
As I walk back and forth along the guardrail, watching the rain clouds to the west as the sunrise keeps changing to the east and hoping for a rainbow, I tell myself I really should get my walk in and go home.
My inner singer answers: “Baby it’s cold outside.”
I laugh. She really has a sense of humor, my inner singer, and she’s right, it is “cold” for August. I am wearing a light sweater, unheard of here in early August, and my car said it was 57 degrees (F) when I pulled into the parking lot. I can smell the rain skirting around us. It’s perfect.
I watch the chimney swifts swirl in, way above my head. I’m amazed there are bugs that high in the air. I imagine being able to soar like a chimney swift and try to get some photos even though the light isn’t perfect. Before I know it, a half-hour has passed, I have taken 500 photos, and I haven’t walked much at all. This may be irresponsible - but it’s FUN.
I really should go home. “Baby it’s cold outside.”
As I realize I don’t want to leave, and acknowledge that my singer is right, I feel a sense of all my carefully laid plans for the day falling to the floor. It feels - freeing - as if a weight has fallen from my shoulders. I expect it to feel bad like I’m doing something wrong. I expect to worry about what I will forget, as I tend to forget things when I get out of routine. Yet all I feel in this moment is relief and a strange sensation that might be - joy?
Yesterday the hammock chair I ordered many weeks ago finally arrived. I quickly assembled it to try it out on the deck while it was so delightfully cool. My first thought as I sat down in the chair was, “I may never get anything done again.” My second thought was, “I may not care.” This chair is even more comfortable and enjoyable than I imagined when I bought it against the desires of my inner accountant who questioned its worth.
I sat on the deck, rocking in the hammock, listening to the wings of ruby-throated hummingbirds as they approached the feeder. I was surprised at how clearly I could hear those wings coming, even before I could see them. I’ve never spent so much time listening to hummingbird wings before.
The little prince, the name I’ve given to the young male who has claimed the feeder as his own, came to investigate this new feature on his deck. He flew right up in front of me and checked it all out before landing on the feeder. On previous days, I sat out here in a camping chair hoping to take photos without having my door open, but the little prince wouldn’t come near the feeder when I was sitting in the chair. Apparently the hammock is different, or maybe he approves of my increase in enjoyment. Whatever the case, he seems comfortable with this new development.
I was surprised by how much more I could hear sitting on the deck than I expected. I could hear goldfinches with their little chi-chi-chirp, flying between the houses. I could hear the different sounds of cars and wondered if I could identify the neighbor by the sound of their car. I could hear the neighbor’s dog scratching at the door asking to be let in.
After breakfast on Saturday, I went and sat in the hammock. Once again I thought, I really should go inside and write. Once again my singer said, “Baby it’s cold outside.”
When I was small, my grandfather used to sit out on his porch in silence, just enjoying being there and doing nothing. I didn’t understand it when I was a kid, but as I approach the age he was then, I understand it completely.
The list of things I “should” do is a self-care list. It’s about moving my body, nourishing myself with healthy food, doing work I love in producing these essays, and keeping a home that’s clean and organized enough to relax. Yet today, letting go of that list and just enjoying the perfect weather feels like a different form of self-care.
Today, I will forgive myself for all the things that don’t get done. Today, my readers will forgive me for not having the most recent photos ready to share. Today, as I send loving-kindness to my friends experiencing fires, floods, illness, and loss, I feel deep gratitude for the ability to enjoy two days of perfect weather.
There really isn’t time for “doing nothing” and enjoying myself - but then again, there really isn’t time not to.
I'm so happy for you that you got a breath of fresh air and opted to enjoy it! The hammock chair "sounds" delightful for all that wonderful deep listening. Great investment!
Your nature photography is, as ever, stunning.