As I’ve sat here waiting for coffee-time Internet visitors, I have been looking through photographs from Julys past. Last summer, there were fancy poppies, where this year I purchased only the seeds for the golden California variety. In 2014, there still were common thistles growing along the garage, mingled with the hollyhock stems and flowers. I miss both.
I would share with you a few of the July photographs I have found, taken on 16 July.
During the past week, I have written a few poems: one for the Ronovan Writes Haiku” challenge: “Child and Safe” were the prompts; and one that I scribbled down this morning, thinking again about what is important for here and now…or, rather, what is not important: “One-Day Flower”, with my beloved blue wild flax flowers on my mind.
I have gotten in a minimum of 8 miles a day on the backyard exercise bike, and my blood glucose numbers are way down, which is a relief, after they got so high while I needed to take doses of the albuterol for my breathing. I am finding that it is just as important to know what is blooming as why.
The week has been brutal when it’s come to outside stressors, not least among them, not having any more information about my youngest sister-in-law, who is under hospice care. Her husband, my youngest brother, does not respond. I suspect ‘avoidance”. I guess I would react the same way, were it my husband.
If we were sharing coffee together, today, I would confide that I am in need of a break. Not from blogging or housework or maintaining diet and chores, but from things that matter most in concrete terms, and yet are not amenable to any gestures I make or could make in their direction. It is not a matter of feeling helpless, I think, because these are things that I never could or thought I could stave off or bring into being. It is more a matter, I think, of having a set of gifts/talents that does not lend itself to either world building or world destruction. A limited circle that does not stretch beyond these four walls and the back yard. And even the seeds planted do not grow at my command. Not even with watering.
It used not to bother me. What does bother me is, I think, living in a world that people do not seem to see. (Perhaps my submersion in political theory was not helpful, since I tend to see and feel in terms of theory and time, ongoing. I do not like it, Sam-I-Am! And I am familiar with my tastes!)
If we were enjoying coffee, together, this afternoon, I would invite you to visit the back yard and fall asleep next to me in the shade of the cotoneaster bushes for a quiet nap.Al is painting the gazebo eves…but quietly. I have a couple of large old quilts ideally suited to napping. And then Café au laits before we go on with the world as it would be.
Best wishes for you during the coming week!