Finding wonder in unexpected places
It’s been raining non-stop for what feels like weeks and weeks in this country. Wherever we go it is grey, wet and ‘miserable’. I’ve hurruffed and hurrumphed about my day because of it. The school run is tedious with traffic. The car park is dappled with muddy puddles, I’m forever standing in the rain getting children in and out of car seats and peeling off wet coats. I never seem to have an umbrella when I need one. And when I do I find it hard to navigate holding the smallies hands and keeping us all dry and I invariably leave it somewhere.
And so it was with great resistance that I agreed to go for a morning walk in the drizzle with my 3 year old after we dropped his sister off at school. He adores being outside. Children are great teachers and he was providing me with a great learning experience. He arrived at the park with no ideas or judgements about whether rain was good or bad… he just relished the experience of sloshing through the wet grass in his wellies and looking at all the trees in their autumnal glory full of leaves, berries and catkins of all shapes, sizes and colours. The white of the silver birch bark warranted a good feel. And he noted that his hands were left with a chalky residue after he did so. The bright green lichen on the cherry tree was springy. The last of the juicy blackberries were calling to be picked which he did with relish. There were a huge variety of trees to enjoy. There were dogs to navigate, sounds in the distance to mimic. Even the dark hue of the sky — which was unendingly grey was something to witness with reverence. And as he slowly went about his explorations it was impossible not to be taken into his world of wonder and start to appreciate what only five minutes ago felt loathsome.
I started to feel into my body. Haaaaaaaah! I’m relaxing! I’m actually feeling good being outside. I’m slowing down. What was it that I needed to rush to again? Was it really that important and time sensitive that we couldn’t go for a short walk? Soon it will be winter and all these beautiful colours will be leaving us for another year. Isn’t the dew on the grass so sparkly? And look those wild pink roses are still blossoming… their velvet petals slowly surrendering to the earth. The busyness, the rush, the need to ‘get on’ was leaving me and in its place my breath was slowing, my heart was opening, and I was feeling a resonance with my little man and all the splendour of everything around us. I felt my soul recharging and my cup being filled.
And then wow, before us a huge troop of large white mushrooms. He exclaimed: ‘Mummy LOOK! Look what the rain has brought! A fairy garden!’ So many mushrooms. So, we both stood in the rain to admire them. And the rain stopped feeling miserable and started to feel lush and liminal. This was indeed a good way to start the day.
If drizzle is delightful and mushrooms are magical what else do I dismiss that is wonder-full? We slowly made our way back to the car. I let people cut in front of me in the traffic and we sang all the way home.