My eight-week old grandboy, Griffin, has been having some hard days, what with colic and spit-up and barking dogs and trying to get his bearings in this foreign world he’s landed in. It’s really a bit much for one small boy to deal with, and sometimes all he can do is wail and rage at the overwhelmingness of it all.
It seems that the most calming place for him to be is outside; namely, my back yard, which is all the outside he really knows at this point. So at least once every day that he’s here at Grandma’s House, I carry him through the patio door and out into the edge of the Wide World. By the time I step off the sidewalk onto the grass, he notices the change in his atmosphere and quiets long enough to take a lip-trembling breath. More fussing may ensue, but after a few minutes he is soothed by the feel of the ground beneath my feet and the breeze on his face. Then he may focus briefly on a brightly-colored flower or gaze up at the leaves above us before laying his head on my shoulder and letting his eyes close.
Here, Little One,
I give you the earth:
all that is good and green and growing.
~ Rebekah Choat