Thursday, February 21st, 11:36am

beeeeep. beeep.beeep.beeeep.beeeep. It's done.
Cinnamon bread from TJ's, a new found treasure buried in the bread isle. Warmed just slightly...just enough to bring it from it's room temperature state. A slab of butter to celebrate. And I gaze with quiet intention at the gray late morning.

The dishwasher runs, and Joaquin dreams. I have the luxury of just sitting at the window, eating my cinnamon bread, yum, and watching the birds engage in what birds engage in. They are scurrying around the feeders in the yard, running out for a quick bite to ease their growling stomachs--between the rains---which they have been trying to stay warm and dry from all morning. They look nervous. Finch. Their nervousness is confirmed with larger jays and robins swooping in on them. For what reason, I'm not sure...but it definitely scares them. Yesterday a rather large squirrel was hanging from the birdfeeder, grubbing some snacks. With my recent intentional efforts to lure more wildlife to our yard, I am happy at the new entertainment outside. I think I might be turning into a birdwatcher. The thought of going on a tour has actually crossed my mind. Not that I know much of birds, but I do find interest in watching and interacting with other wildlife. Maybe a curiosity mixed with contentment is a way to express my love for birds. I rip another piece off my cinnamon bread.

I sit and wonder what other mother's do when they get some time to themselves. I often do "nothing". I enjoy the silence, napping, creating, observing, and reflecting. Some days I am more drawn to it than others. Some days my semi-interest in baking takes over and I cook a loaf of bread or muffins. Joaquin and I also spend time like this together, quiet- being- together time. No expectations, but just following his lead, and being a quiet support and witness to his own internal pull to develop and grow. These times with him are so valuable to me, the moments of just being instead of doing. They are like taking a deep exhalation into the roots of being alive. And an awareness of mothering.