On March 7, 1944, Anne Frank wrote in her diary, “I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.” She continues, “Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy.” If we seek beauty, she wrote, we will discover more and more happiness and regain our balance. May this brave young girl’s grit and resilience be our shield and armor now, even amid the chaos of uncertainty.
After a two-month absence, due to incorporating edits and further preparing my novel for publication in May, I set aside a block of time to resume the activity I’ve apparently grown to need—an unburdening—and after fitting the passenger pigeon with the rolled-up message, I’ll stand at the proverbial window and release her into the cybersphere. . . .
So, I probably don’t have to describe the nation’s present dire straits. Or mention newscasts that raise my blood pressure and temper, even as I try to restrict my watching/listening/reading. I finally understand that I must be informed (even to a lesser degree) of circumstances we Americans find ourselves in, which absolutely include the entire world—due to our sphere of influence. As I write, the head of NATO visits the White House to try (I fervently hope) to impart some much-needed wisdom and grace to his hosts.
I may realize all of this and still need to inhale deeply, exhale, repeat several times, and turn my thoughts and gaze to our surrounding forest of ponderosas, ash, bur oaks, boxelder, and juniper. I can—and do—“look up unto the hills.” I listen very carefully for their message. Richard Powers says trees speak to us in a super-low frequency, difficult to make out, so one must use the physician’s auscultation when using a stethoscope to hear the words. Listen and you will hear. Seek and you will find.
The goldfinches are molting to happier yellow feathers and, in murmurations, they flit, rise, and swoop to feeders my husband so lovingly provides all winter. It remains wintry here, temperature-wise, until mid-May, save a few days here and there. The Almanack insists there will be no more snow storms this year. Hopefully, several good rains.
I note beauty in a new sitting area outdoors. Jaunty red Adirondack chairs cradle an exceptional birthday gift from our children, a handsome fire pit that promises to reduce smoky clouds, this having to do with genius construction to encourage airflow. We have experimented with placement to locate the most protected spot from prevailing winds: my criteria for going forward now, as I hunt for the nourishment of Beauty, like flocks of Goldfinches.
Braeburn Croft 