Dulce Domum
Dulce Domum*
[Sweetly at home.]
Fun fact: In every known language there is a word that translates directly into English as "home".
The pretty iron gate that welcomes one and all, has become my talisman of dulce domum.
Dulce domum here at Mill Creek is Phil, riding off on her daily bicycle excursion; it is Aase and Orville nurturing our gardens; it is Horace, my friendly grey squirrel (cousin of Fargo) noshing on my deck; it is Wenda, our Red-bellied Woodpecker hunting for bugs; it is #12 — my address, my digs, my nest, my home. My dulce domum, which grows more lovely to me with each passing day.
Much more than shelter, the true purpose of a home is to provide a snug, safe, haven. Mum, of the wee house on Joy Drive, often said that, more important than the size of the house is the cosiness and peace of the home. Indeed, the serenity we enjoy at home helps calm us and restore peace to our souls. My house does that for me. In spades.
Here, sweetly at home means quietude that is unique to small-towns; it means a balcony made for the enjoyment of the woods, the birds who live in those woods, the ravine and Mill Creek that are behind my home; it means the steadfast love that Cam showers on me; it means plenty of healthy food; it means air-conditioned comfort in the summer and a furnace for warmth in the winter; it means having a cosy, comfy bed to snuggle up in at the end of each day. Idyllic, you may be thinking. It is, and yet…
The world is brimming with beauty,
But I must stay at home.**
Fainting and enough humidity for me to feel as if I’m trying to breathe under water have combined to keep me prisoner in the relative safety and controlled climate of my home most of the past month. Frustration, disappointment and a wee dose of anger have crept into my disposition and when that happens, I am most definitely not dulce domum. Acrem domum - maybe!
So many plans, so many goals, the best of intentions and a workable strategy but, as Rabbie so famously penned, The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men, gang aft agley. And awry mine have certainly gone. I’ve been wondering why I’m able to overcome or transcend some setbacks, whilst others knock me for a loop and I surrender. Wallow, even.
I’m more than a little impatient for this incarceration to end. I’ve done my level best to curb my restlessness — I’ve tried to relax on the balcony (reading and writing), but that no longer works. I made up a game of bird-watching (trying to see how many species I can spot without moving from the balcony). It’s a fun but not consuming pastime. I’ve found 35 so far (listed below) but I still, more than anything, want to be out in nature.
What’s needed here is the skill necessary to balance expectation with limitation, emotion with composure, impulse with prudence — forging a personal resilience. But I am not good utter crap at self-discipline. So far.
In the mean time, whilst waiting for that personal growth to happen, I shall depend upon the calmness and love of my home sweet home — dulce domum — whilst desperately jonesing for a day out in the woods or beside the marsh with Charlie and my camera.
’Til next time, y’all…
Balcony Birds:
Blue Jay
Cardinal
Chickadee
Cowbird
Flicker
Grackle
Grosbeak
Gull (2 species)
Finch (2 species)
Kingbird
Mourning Dove
Northern Bobwhite
Nuthatch
Oriole
Osprey
Purple Martin
Red-Winged Blackbird
Robin
Sparrow (3 species)
Starling
Swallow (2 species)
Swift
Tern
Vireo
Waxwing
Woodpecker (2 species)
Wren (2 species)
* In ancient Rome, the Latin phrase dulce domum meant “sweetly at home” - their version of home sweet home. Its literal translation is “sweet home”. Robert Steele Ambrose used Dulce Domum as the name of a hymn he composed and Kenneth Grahame used Dulce Domum as the title of Chapter V in his classic children’s tale, The Wind in the Willows.
**Sara Teasdale, page 20, “Pain” from her anthology Flame and Shadow (full text below).
Pain
Waves are the sea's white daughters,
And raindrops the children of rain,
But why for my shimmering body
Have I a mother like Pain?
Night is the mother of stars,
And wind the mother of foam—
The world is brimming with beauty,
But I must stay at home.
[Sara Teasdale]