This mortgage bail out leaves my head spinning. I don't know the right answer. But who cares what I think anyways? Hard to imagine that our representation in DC is really going to turn to its constituents to inform their decision. So, I did what most Americans are guilty of. I turned off the news this morning and will play ignorant, for today. Instead I turn my energy and attention to creating my fabulous day to day life.
Speaking of, life is pretty darn good these days. Matthew just mowed the grass for the last time this season and I caught the whiff of fresh cut grass on the crisp morning air when I opened the kitchen window today. That aroma won't be filling the air again until June. That realization brought a tiny bit of melancholy that was quickly wiped away by excitement for fall stand-bys like crunching apples and wearing my favorite sweater again.
Yesterday, while working in one of my favorite gardens, I was visited by a strange yet old, familiar experience. Never have I had this experience where a garden and plants are concerned, hence the strangeness. As I pulled blooming but scraggly petunias out of their summer bed, I was flooded with early summer memories of planting those very petunias; memories of great conversations and laughing with Cindy and Terri. We built friendship in that garden this summer. And here is the point at which I recognized the experience as old and familiar. This is the familiar experience of wrapping up summer camp. As a camper and a counselor, I experienced this mix of emotions while cleaning up camp, packing all of the goods away until next summer, and saying ciao to summer friends. While cleaning, sorting and packing, inevitably all of the memories of the summer come flooding back. When I washed the climbing ropes, the huge smile and shouts of joy from a timid camper at the top of the cliff flash across the screen in my head. A virtual slideshow recounts the scenes, smells, laughs, cries, pains and joys that defined the summer. Yet this rich summer has come to an end. So while cleaning and packing, I found myself laughing and crying at the same time. And this is what I experienced in the garden yesterday. While pulling those petunias, the slideshow played back wonderful scenes from the summer. I stop with a smile of satisfaction on my face. Yet another way in which I have achieved my lifelong goal to design every day of my life to be as much like summer camp as possible. The bonus, though, is that I don't say adios to Terri and Cindy until next summer. They are my year- round friends! Score!
Speaking of, life is pretty darn good these days. Matthew just mowed the grass for the last time this season and I caught the whiff of fresh cut grass on the crisp morning air when I opened the kitchen window today. That aroma won't be filling the air again until June. That realization brought a tiny bit of melancholy that was quickly wiped away by excitement for fall stand-bys like crunching apples and wearing my favorite sweater again.
Yesterday, while working in one of my favorite gardens, I was visited by a strange yet old, familiar experience. Never have I had this experience where a garden and plants are concerned, hence the strangeness. As I pulled blooming but scraggly petunias out of their summer bed, I was flooded with early summer memories of planting those very petunias; memories of great conversations and laughing with Cindy and Terri. We built friendship in that garden this summer. And here is the point at which I recognized the experience as old and familiar. This is the familiar experience of wrapping up summer camp. As a camper and a counselor, I experienced this mix of emotions while cleaning up camp, packing all of the goods away until next summer, and saying ciao to summer friends. While cleaning, sorting and packing, inevitably all of the memories of the summer come flooding back. When I washed the climbing ropes, the huge smile and shouts of joy from a timid camper at the top of the cliff flash across the screen in my head. A virtual slideshow recounts the scenes, smells, laughs, cries, pains and joys that defined the summer. Yet this rich summer has come to an end. So while cleaning and packing, I found myself laughing and crying at the same time. And this is what I experienced in the garden yesterday. While pulling those petunias, the slideshow played back wonderful scenes from the summer. I stop with a smile of satisfaction on my face. Yet another way in which I have achieved my lifelong goal to design every day of my life to be as much like summer camp as possible. The bonus, though, is that I don't say adios to Terri and Cindy until next summer. They are my year- round friends! Score!
dead petunias gave you this memory???
ReplyDeleteJustKidding - it is so nice to see the garden complete the growing season and then come full circle by putting in bulbs which almost surprise us in the spring! Its been great to see our friendship grow along with the plants!