Quiet

Nature itself seems to be curing me of my spring fever. We have had cold nights for the past few evenings, forcing me to push my rocking chair closer to the warmth of the woodstove as I spin my wool. The warmth of the stove is like a comforting shawl wrapped around me and embracing me in such a comforting way. Perhaps even like the loving arms of a mother holding her child.
My hands and mind so used to the task that it seems like mindless work. The steady hum of the wheel combined with my own breath is much like the quiet lullaby a mother sings just as her child drifts off to sleep. My own eyes feel heavy in the moment.
Candle light flickers near me. Set atop the candle box, hung on the wall. Setting the stage for this perfect quiet evening.
I sort of come back to the moment and listen intently to a small clackety clack sound from my spinning wheel. Something is loose and I lean my ear in a bit to see if I can tell where the tiny sound is coming from. I stop the spinning and gently shake the wheel and am surprised to find the whole wheel a bit loose. So much use this winter and now its showing. My husband watches and silently gets up and heads out to his shop. The screen door bangs in that familiar sound. I imagine his steps across the yard and can see him in my minds eye as he reaches into his little tin of small tools and finds just what is needed to fix the problem on my wheel. The door opens and the screen door bangs closed once again. A smile and a tool. The wheel is turned on its end and fixed in a moments time.
A kiss and a smile and back to the hum of the wheel and a bit of chatter about the day. Even with talk, the evening feels quiet.