Last week was a flurry of activity and angst (that's the double A..what would make it triple? Anger?
Arthritis? Aching? Arm-wrestling? Anxiety - that's a given -? Avarice? Aging)
This week? Stasis. Both welcome and grounding.
It's allowed me time to appreciate my home, the dawn when walking dogs - sun rising and changing the blue-black into fiery orange and then to cerulean blue, feeling the sun on my face and arms;
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| Point No Point |
The cardinals, blue jays, the pileated woodpeckers and the same larks that Romeo and Juliet bemoaned (for very different reasons). Not to mention the wild parrots who continue to amuse me with their colors and their adaptability. They now come to the bird feeder and are blase about the dogs, cats, and baby strollers. They probably should be living in Park Slope.
Our backyard is very modest and in need of serious and kindly attention. I went out and bagged the dog poop (no delicacy possible) and gently moved the leaves and twigs from my herb garden (built by Ken as an homage to the base of the Statue of Liberty and first serving as sandbox for small boys and friends.) Looked at the pale and tentative emerging shoots of the flowers and other green things that I've planted and tended for decades now. And wondering/hoping they can be loved by someone new.
And torn again by what I need and want to do for house and garden vs what I need and want to do for me.
The Flaming Lips - All We Have Is Now
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