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The earth smells like it has been freshly bathed – which it has. It smells clean with a sweet aroma. The air is warm, sultry with that feeling of excitement that seems as if it is a signal of the energy that surges in nature as the seasons change. Like a car gunning its engine, but without all the noise. And fumes.

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It’s been raining here and that is joyful for this valley, in and of itself. We’ve been dry for a long summer, springs shriveling down. People in neighboring farms have been trucking water in for their plants. We haven’t needed to as our property has been graced with a lot of spring water. But we are conscious of our bounty, well aware that others haven’t been as fortunate.

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Water. It’s life.

I wasn’t considerate about it when I lived in the Bay Area. Something about being able to turn on a faucet and have as much as I want does that to me. It’s hard for me in those urban spaces to wrap my mind around the signs that I see by the freeway,

California is experiencing a severe drought: please be careful

Here, it’s in your face. The plants are brown, drying up, dying. The rivers are shrinking. The fish can’t swim because the water is so low. The animals are thirsty – the wild boar even came up rooting in my kitchen garden and tried to dig by the washing machine, they were that desperate for a drink.

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It’s just unreal and it adds a thread to the tangled thoughts that muddle around in my mind, the thoughts about our world, what we are creating, how beautiful this place is, how I wish everyone could be in a place that fit them so well – and then we’d all care for our spaces and places so that our environment would find balance.

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I don’t have answers.

But I am very glad that it rained.

 

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I wish I had been able to bring in ALL of the laundry from the line, but oh well. That’s a tiny drop out of the big bucket of gratitude that I have for dousing that nature gave us, the lovely smell the cleaned earth is giving off, the sparkle and vibrance that hums within the plants, trees, grass – all that lives around us, with us. It’s on ultra-saturated, high beam-and-gloss.

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 Precious heart.

The rain and the earth and tangled thoughts in my head about water and the way we use it feel very much like a story that is curling up, getting ready to be told.

Micah is like that in another way – he’s this interesting person who is growing with his story, growing into his story, his story is growing with him. I’m not sure which it is, if it’s the story that makes us or if we make the story. I like to believe it is the latter.

But I can see him clearly, forging his way now in his own story and I’m just glad that there is still a lot of time for me to still talk with him and be there for him.

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******

Other News:

Labour of Love: Down syndrome Blogs is updated. If you blog or have a site that is Down syndrome related, please take a moment to fill out the comment form on any of the blog-listing pages. I’d be grateful if you shared the link – here’s the short link: http://wp.me/P33sT1-75Z

A Disability Blog Roll: I’m building one now. If you are a person with a disability and have a blog or website that you wish to be included, can you email me with your details? (meriahnichols@gmail.com)

I’d really appreciate any and all helpful resources for both Down syndrome and disability as well. THANK YOU

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Meriah

is a deaf blogger, global nomad, tech-junkie, cat-lover, Trekkie, Celto-Teutonic-peasant-handed mom of 3 (one with Down syndrome and one gifted 2E).

She likes her coffee black and hot.


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