I’m sipping my coffee and thinking about Spring. This is not one of those rare years when I could afford to be careless or casual about resources as Spring approached. My thoughts are in the garden, but I can’t be eager or easy-going about spending money on the garden. I have plenty of seeds – do I have the patience to wait for seedlings to sprout? The new raised bed I want? That comes at a cost (in money and labor). The time is, perhaps, not now. I’m planning with more care, with an eye on the near and long-term future. I’m making a plan. The clock is ticking. Other things are, maybe, more important. What matters most? I sit with my thoughts and my coffee, gazing out into the early morning sky through the office window.
Thinking, planning, daydreaming – the future is a playground, but it isn’t real, yet. The future is all possibilities, opportunities, and choices. We can make it what we want it to be – with some effort, and some careful decision-making, and some luck. There are verbs involved. Chance and change will call some of the shots. The path is not reliably clear, or reliably smooth. We make our own way, each having our own experience, each having to clear the hurdles of unanticipated circumstances, and the consequences of our actions. I’d like to be in the garden right now. I could walk away from work and go do that, but… consequences. I sip my coffee, breathe, exhale, and relax.
I’m in considerable pain this morning (it’s just my arthritis, and there’s nothing much to be done about it besides endure with some measure of grace). I’m thinking about that distant future… if I hold out and don’t retire before I’m 70, and keep this job, my social security retirement will pay about half what I make, working. That’s livable, especially with my VA disability compensation, my Traveling Partner’s income (whatever it may be then), and the potential for having paid off the mortgage (a goal) and keeping other bills low (another goal). So many choices and verbs – so much potential, so little certainty.
I sigh to myself and look out at the sky, thinking about the primroses blooming in the garden. It’s a rainy morning. There are probably raindrops clinging to the petals. Maybe the deer have come to the garden to look around for a tasty rose to nibble on? The roses are doing well this year, so far. I smile at the thought – it doesn’t take much to make me “happy”, for most values of happiness, now that I understand better what it is I need from life to thrive and be well. I’ve learned to rely on building lasting contentment and savoring small joys to get me through difficult times – because those things are easily within reach, can be practiced, and are enough. I’ve learned to avoid “chasing happiness” – it’s a trap. Happiness will find me when it finds me, and most often when I’m not looking for it. That’s enough.
I sip my coffee, and think my thoughts. Lavender to keep the deer away from the roses, maybe? Scented Geraniums to discourage insects? My Traveling Partner confirmed with me that he would be okay with that (allergies can make a person’s life a living hell, so I check in with him about flowers and such). I’m eager to do something about that. The ideas tickle my imagination and distract me. I’m grateful that it is Friday. I’m eager to finish the work day and begin again on other things, and to walk a path in Spring time. There’s a garden to tend and a future harvest to plant. (Yes, it’s a metaphor.)
Evening Light 