There’s a heat warning for later this weekend, and today looks like it’ll be a hot day by afternoon. Here on the trail in the morning sunshine, the air smells sweetly of mown grasses and meadow flowers. A fence rail makes a convenient seat to stop awhile. I listen to the birds calling to each other and singing morning songs. It’s hard to separate the sound of distant traffic from the sound of the river, from this spot. The golden hues of the sunlight remind me I have work to do in my garden this weekend. The inappropriately warm sweater I threw on reminds me I also need to do laundry.
A perspective on a summery morning.
My mind wanders to other summers, and recollections of summer mornings long past. I hear bees getting their day started, and instinctively check for my epi-pen, in my pocket. One more thing to grab each morning before I set off down the trail. I’m grateful to be so well prepared when I hit the trail, my backpack stocked with things I might need, and always right there in my car, ready for adventure.
… I send a silent “thank you” to my Traveling Partner, who suggested years ago that I just leave my backpack in my car, since I’m out on the trail so often and might need something in it. He was right, great practice that has served me well, from bee sting kit to snack bars, to hand soap, toilet tissue, and hair ties, rain gear, and clean dry socks. lol I’m prepared for most circumstances, most of the time…
I sit watching the sun rise, thinking about icy cold sweet tea on a screened in porch, and the sounds of insects buzzing, and the big floor fan blowing the humid air around without much effect. I recall wading in the warm muddy shallows of Weems Creek, chasing minnows and tadpoles, crabbing, or fishing for sunnies. Childhood memories untainted by trauma. Summers were stifling hot, and summertime seemed timeless, made up of swimming lessons, weekend mornings in the garden, and long quiet afternoons reading books. Books were my readily available escape from the world, but I often find myself wishing I had been more fearlessly present in my experience at that time, and more easily able to recall it clearly, now. Funny how perspective and time change the value of past events.
Nozomi needs weeding. I remind myself to wear gloves.
I sit with my thoughts awhile longer. It’s nothing to be moody about, and I don’t tend to linger on regret; it serves little useful purpose. Besides, the sun is up, and the clock is ticking; there are experiences to have now, today, and memories to make in the garden that is my own. It’s time to begin again, already.
I’m sipping my coffee after a short suburban walk around the neighborhood where the office is located. In one direction, it’s all residential streets and quite cul de sacs, filled with pretty landscaping and flowers in bloom, and it makes a nice walk in the cool of the morning. It’ll be hot later on, and it’s clear that summer is approaching. I dislike taking my walks in the heat of the day, in summertime, so this early morning habit becomes quite a practical thing this time of year.
“Sweet Chariot” blooming.
I enjoyed the garden yesterday, and new roses intended for the bare slope beneath the back retaining wall finally arrived. They’re waiting for their moment for planting, which looks to be Monday since I’ll need help with that, and in the meantime they sit on the deck in partial shade, getting used to the climate and being watched and watered until Monday comes. R. eglanteria is a favorite species rose (for me), and I love the apple scent of the foliage and flowers. In the conditions here, it should root firmly, spread nicely without becoming “invasive”, and do an excellent job of preventing erosion where they are planted. I’m hoping that perhaps as they grow they’ll also be sufficiently interesting to the deer to distract them from my garden. lol (“Good luck with that, Lady, the deer are probably still going to eat your damned roses.”)
“Rainbow Happy Trails” blooming, each blossom like a tiny sunrise.
I think about other garden projects while I sip my coffee, and think ahead even to the autumn gardening plan. It’s not really time to bother with that, but it’s good to have a plan in mind. I giggle to myself when I realize I’m thinking about where to put still another rose or two, as if I haven’t already wedged in a ridiculous number of them for the space I’ve got. Most of the roses in my garden are smaller varieties (some are miniatures), which make good use of the limited space, and are uncompromisingly beautiful. In this case, size does not matter at all. I’m more interested in the health of the foliage, the beauty of the blooms, and the quantity and fragrance of those flowers. I love stepping out the front door and being immediately surrounded by an invisible cloud of sweet rose fragrances, which tend to “pool” in the entry way.
“Nozomi” thriving, in full bloom; she’s so thorny it is very difficult to weed her as much as she does need it.
I enjoy the sanctuary of my garden when I’m a bit stressed out. I love the moments I spend there daydreaming and reflecting on life when I’m feeling a bit stalled. I enjoy the practical metaphor for living that my garden represents, too. My garden teaches me, nurtures my spirit, and produces yummy vegetables, leafy greens, and moments of rest in a too busy world. I still have to work at it. We become what we practice. We harvest what we plant. There are verbs involved in life and gardening.
A tiny bug on my romaine.
I breathe, exhale, and relax. It’ll be late in the afternoon when I am next in my garden, watering, maybe weeding, planning the weekend project for better protecting the vegetable bed. I’m already thinking about it, which isn’t at all “being present in the moment”, because right now I’m in the office, beginning the work day. lol There are other things to do. Other places to focus my attention. Human primates are hilarious. I smile at my flights of fancy and eagerness to be in the garden; I don’t actually prefer to do the amount of work it takes to keep the garden beautiful, but it is work that must be done if I wish to enjoy a beautiful garden. There it is – the secret sauce to living well; do the work.
There’s also a certain amount of luck and happenstance involved…
I smile at the thought that “all it takes is hard work” – it’s a very “Republican perspective” on success, and it is misleading. Yes, it’s important to “do the needful” to succeed in life (or work, or love, or gardening), but also – there’s the matter of luck, good fortune, and circumstances being in favor of whatever thing I’m attempting to do. No one truly finds success alone, and while there are surely verbs involved, and yes the work we put in does have a lot to do with the success we find, there’s also no getting around the idea that we are each also very dependent on luck, and often the help of others. Maybe things just don’t go our way? Maybe the deer eat everything in our garden down to the ground and we’ve got to start completely from new seeds or plants and do it all over again? Maybe our crops become blighted, or consumed by some tiny creature? Maybe we become injured and simply can’t do the work required? I feel fortunate; although the deer ate my bean plants, those plants are recovering, putting out flowers, and seem likely to grow some actual beans before the summer is over. The tomatoes are also recovering. That’s a win, although it’s still possible the deer will have another go at my damned vegetables before I have a harvest. lol (It’s a helpful metaphor.) I’m fortunate that I also have help when I need it – I need only ask.
I sigh to myself and sip my coffee. It’s a lovely morning to be in the garden. I’m in the office. There are things to do here, too, and at least for now my time is not my own. I glance at the clock and admit to myself that the work day has begun. I look over my calendar, and my email. It’s time to begin again.
What a beautiful morning! The sunrise was nearly over when I reached the trailhead. I hit the trail as soon as my boots were on. The sky was hues of tangerine and peach, and the sun was a deep orange as it rose. Mt Hood was a misty lavender silhouetted against the colorful sunrise and I walked eastwards, shading my eyes from the glare, full of a sense of wonder.
… I didn’t think to take a picture, I was immersed in experiencing the moment…
The trail takes a turn into the trees, if I bear left where it divides. Everything is so green! It’s that time in Spring when all the marsh and meadow grasses are rich hues of green, the trees are fully dressed in their Spring finery, and all of the Spring-blooming flowers present colorful accents to the lush assortment of greens everywhere I look. So beautiful! I walk with my thoughts, grinning to myself. Robins call to each other. A young blue jay follows my progress on the trail, flitting from tree to tree, watching me.
Spring.
Later a bit of housework, maybe some gardening, definitely a stop at a local nursery to inspire (and soothe) me after yet another sighting of the doe eating my damned garden. I laugh in spite of my frustration. I’d rather deal with the deer than not have a garden at all.
I think about animes that we’re watching as a family, and their common themes of growth over time, and the will to act, and the need to persist in the face of hardship and challenges. I find them inspiring (even when a little ludicrous and exaggerated). There are useful moral lessons in those animes that are nothing to do with any one religion or school of thought, and everything to do with becoming one’s best self, and living ethically and making wise choices. They present stories of complexity and demonstrate the importance of compassion, consideration, and perspective. They teach with kindness, humor, and art. It’s a world worth exploring.
I sigh, sitting in the sunshine at my halfway point watching a doe standing quietly in the adjacent meadow, nibbling at the grasses. She bolts when I turn my camera in her direction and the picture I snap is blurry.
I sit awhile longer with my thoughts, ignoring physical pain in favor of enjoying the sunshine. I should definitely make time for the garden…
I breathe, exhale, and relax. Lovely morning for it. I wonder where the day will take me? The air smells sweet with wildflowers. I sneeze a couple times and laugh at myself – I don’t care about the sneezes nearly as much as I enjoy the fragrance of flowers. I’m glad I shoved a pack of tissues in my pocket, though. Handy. Another breath, another moment with my thoughts. Soon it’ll be time to walk back down the trail and begin again.
My legs ache fiercely, mostly because we purchased a used elliptical machine to improve our fitness strategy (at home), and I’ve been using it. I can “go further, faster” on the elliptical than I can on the trail, with less strain and more emphasis on cardio. I’m hoping this gets me past being a bit “stuck”, and hoping it is a helpful addition for my Traveling Partner, too. Being “stuck” needed attention, and this feels like a win – if we reliably use it. My short-term goal is to add at least 1 mile on the elliptical each day to my routine, and increase that over the next few weeks until I’m managing an additional 5 miles per day on the machine (on top of my trail miles, which tend to be slower).
I’m sipping my tea and thinking about a job opportunity that has developed, with a former colleague I have always greatly enjoyed working with. Here’s the thing, though, unlike the fitness challenge that I was struggling with and needed a solution for, I am enjoying the job I have right now, and wasn’t looking for a change. Weighing the value of the opportunity against my current contentment feels a lot different than “solving a problem”. It’s okay to let an opportunity pass by if the timing and circumstances aren’t “right” for it. I think it over, and sip my tea. What do I want? What does my life need? What takes me further down the path of becoming the woman I most want to be as a human being? These are important questions to answer, before I make a change I don’t really need to make.
…Nice problem to have…
I sigh and stretch. Breathe, exhale, relax. Sip my tea feeling satisfied with the moment and wrapped in love. It’s an ordinary work day, doing a job I enjoy with a team I appreciate and hold in high regard. I’m working from home in a space that feels comfortable and supports my needs. I pull my posture more upright, adjust the position of my keyboard. I notice the pain in my legs (just sore muscles) and in my back (osteo arthritis), but my headache is minimal (a nice change) and my tinnitus is present but not a major distraction this morning (I’m grateful). It’s an ordinary enough day, all things considered. The clock ticks on, questions to ask, questions to answer, moments to live and things to decide – all very ordinary indeed. It’s already time to begin again.
Cloudy morning. The deep dark green of the oaks dressed in Spring foliage dominate the view as I set off down the trail this morning. My head is full of vaguely grim musings, like “how many more sunrises?” And whether or not human life is sustainable on this planet at all, or how many idiots it takes to destroy democracy as astonished others watch it fall? My head aches. I woke with the headache and my tinnitus loud in my ears. I walk anyway.
Oaks along a well-maintained local trail, on s gray Spring morning.
It’s a workday. For some reason I feel cross and moody every time I think about my upcoming birthday. I don’t know what to do about my moody bullshit, but I guess I know more or less where it comes from. Change. I feel childish and stupidly emotional over it. Change is, and there are much more serious things going on in the world to be moody about than the details vexing me now. I’m just still dealing with it, I guess.
In spite of making tremendous progress recovering from his injury and the surgery that followed, my Traveling Partner, my beloved, is still healing, adapting, and working to recover skills and mobility that were lost or impaired. (We made dinner together last night and it was wonderful to see him back in the kitchen, cooking!) I’m incredibly impressed and proud of him for the sheer will and commitment he’s shown. I know how hard it is; I’ve been there (though I was in my 20’s when I broke my back, and that’s a very different age to deal with such a thing). So I want to be clear about my angsty nonsense; it’s not about him, or in fact about the current circumstances. Not really.
Love matters most.
I catch myself thinking about my 60th birthday. We’d just gotten the Ridgeline, and we were happily purposeful and excited, and eagerly exploring the local wilds together. The physical intimacy in our relationship was connected, deep, and joyful, and we “had the house to ourselves”. Him getting hurt wasn’t even on our radar. A year later, my birthday was mostly caregiving and preparing for his surgery with him, and doing the needful to help the Anxious Adventurer relocate to move in and give us a hand with all that, whatever he could while also building a life here for himself and working. Then another 6 months or so of crazy intense caregiving that exhausted me and pushed me to limits I didn’t know I have, before my beloved really started to “be himself” again. I’m not complaining. I’m just saying that these are the circumstances and changes that brought me to this weird and moody place, facing a birthday I mostly wouldn’t care much about under other circumstances. 62? Not even a milestone (and I don’t “feel old”, generally speaking, in spite of chronic pain). I just have feelings. Very human. I don’t know what to do with or about this particular birthday. I simultaneously ache with poignant feelings of loss and strange regrets, and also don’t give a fuck and want to put it behind me.
I have planned taking the week after my birthday off work, but I have no actual plans. It’s just all really weird and the emotions have piled on, and I’m having trouble sorting myself out. It’s annoying.
“Emotion and Reason” 18″ x 24″ acrylic w/ceramic and glow details, 2012
I breathe, exhale, and relax. There’s so much to appreciate and to be grateful for. I focus on that as I sit at my halfway point, writing and reflecting. Things could be much worse. Change is, and this too will pass. I can count on that. lol I will find small joys to help me past blue moments. The clock will tick on, regardless. A week off spent sleeping in, painting, and puttering in my garden, reading books, and walking local trails, is time well-spent and needs no elaborate planning at all. It’s even enough, truly. Ah, but I do have these feelings, and the way out is reliably through – so I give myself room to experience and process my emotions, without taking them personally. Just feeling the feelings and reflecting on those. They’ll pass. They’re only emotions after all, not truths, not requirements, just their own sort of experience. I give myself a break and let them come and go like gray clouds on a Spring morning; yes, they appear to cover the entire sky, but they will move on, and there is blue sky beyond.
… Clouds make a nice metaphor for emotions…
I smile to myself. I’m okay for most values of “okay”, and this is a good life. I am indeed fortunate. Emotions are so very human. I sigh and chuckle to myself as I get to my feet and stretch. This path won’t walk itself. There are practices to practice and the clock ticks on. It’s time to begin again.
Evening Light 