Rainbows and Old Barns

Last night I sat here and tried to work on processing some pictures while one child was rythmically smacking a punching balloon in my left ear, and the other small person was hanging on my right shoulder to peer over and see what I was doing.  I prefer to work in quiet.  I like my routines and I'm introverted enough to want total silence while I am focusing.  I don't even like the radio on when I'm trying to focus.  But last night I intentionally tried to embrace the noisy joy and find my place in the midst of the distraction. 

We went out this weekend to take some pictures of some old barns I had been eyeing to fulfill a request made by my brother.  I told the kids we were going adventuring.  We loaded up the snow shovel in case we got stuck, and the dog just because. 

Aidan and Chloe are true teachers in how to embrace the moment.  Exploring open spaces in knee deep snow is an adventure.  They can find joy in the most mundane of moments, turning something ordinary into a treasure. 

I think life should be like that.  Because if we are always looking for rainbows or our happy place somewhere else-when things are quieter, or different, or better; we're going to miss the special in this very moment. 

Sliding down a huge muddy embankment and then getting stuck because it's too steep, plus you forgot your gloves and your hands are too cold to dig in the snow, could, I suppose, be a reason to become frustrated and angry...or it could be an adventure and a rescue story.  Because then your mom will have to send the dog down after you and he will earn his kibble by hauling you back up the slope and then everyone can go get some chai and somosas at the new Indian chaat house and it ends happily ever after.  (Except maybe for the poor guy who had to mop up all the mud we inadvertently tromped in).

I guess the point is maybe, that life is a story.  And we have some say in what gets written in the pages of our memories simply by the way that we choose to view things.

Happy rainbow hunting.  And for the record, old barns and cows with their faces covered in snow, make me happy.