I am at Lauren's house in Garden City. Slept in the living room couch, woke up saw wall; peeked through blinds, saw street. Peeked at backyard as I drink my first cup of coffee and saw the deck dusted with snow, the yard bounded by the fence in three sides. I go for my walk - all flat, no hills. Garden City Park has lots of trees, walking pathways are made of concrete. The house is warm with love.
At home in Northville, I wake up; windows wide open, the view of the lake and gorgeous sunrises coming over the hill greet me. Have no kitchen window but I watch the lake and the hills beyond as I drink my cup of java in the living room. Sometimes I say my rosary. When I go for my walk, there are hills, mud in the footpaths when it rains. I am alone a lot but not lonely.
In summer when I am walking on top of one of the hills, I think about May and the kalumboyan and Cogon; where I watch the sea from afar and listen to the rustle of cogon grass stroked by the winds of May. Peaceful and soothing.
Now, the lake is rimmed with snow. It is half way frozen - in the the shallow parts mostly - soon almost all of the top will be frozen; ice - a couple of feet deep - the shanties of the ice fishermen will appear, spoiling my view.
I take ownership of the geography that surrounds me. I like to feel part of it all.
I have spent much of my childhood by the sea, in the sea, watching the sea in Catmon; listening to the music of the waves, a symphony with a variety of movements. Being in the water is like being one with the symphonic creation.
The beauty of the geographies are different but still beauty.
Have studied the changes in the geography through the seasons - the tableau seem to nourish my soul and renew my spirit. I think about the wondrous God Creator, steadfast but always changing - I, too, one of His Creations is always changing.
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