The Third Act

get up, woman

Get up, woman

Go do what you need to do

Let each part of the process propel you to the next

The path makes itself clear with every step taken

 

 

 

obsession

I think about my garden all the time.  In the spring I'm out there daily, sometimes for hours.  Sometimes I don't do anything, but just be out there.  There are only a few other situations in which I feel as plugged in (maybe in the kitchen or with a camera in my hands).  Everyday offers something new and amazing to witness.

There are worse things on which to obsess...money (or the lack thereof), loneliness, fear.  I figure giving the garden an inordinate amount of attention isn't a bad thing at all.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Monday afternoon

I've been pushing myself the last few days, to get to a (for now) finished place in the garden.  Oddly, last night I had a bout of insomnia.  I don't know what kicked it off...it's like my body was holding on to tension from all my physical efforts.  Yes, I did some breathing exercises and just tried to lay quiet, to no avail.  I finally ended up watching the latest episodes of Last Week Tonight and Mare of Eastown, on my iPad.  And yes, I know the rule for good sleep hygiene is no electronics in bed, but this isn't something that's happening all the time and I won't berate myself for my choice.  I finally fell asleep some time after three.

This morning I woke around 7am.  I fell back asleep for a little bit and finally got up just before 8am.  For whatever reason, I didn't feel terribly sleep deprived.  The garden needed watering, laundry needed to get started and at 11am I had an online writer's group.  When all those other items were checked off my list, I took Avery out for a walk.  Upon arrival home, we both flopped down on the couch.  I can't say I slept (Avery probably did, though), but I did manage to rest a bit.  Apparently that little lie down was enough because after that I proceeded to go work in the garden (yet again) and finished spreading the rest of the wood chip pile.  

Perhaps in these coming days, I'll get back to making more prints, maybe shooting some black and white film and processing (pinholes, I need to make more pinholes).  I have one book to finish before Friday and another to start (and yet another to still procure for the next book group book).  Stretching my brain as best I can.

 

Sunday

I've spent the better part of this weekend, obsessively working on the yards.  Mowing lawns, making things tidy, planting (a bit) and mulching (a lot).  I got it almost done.  One more wheel barrow of wood chips (the last of it, actually) tomorrow and that'll be it...for a while.  

The garden is a living thing, it's never quite done.  And that's okay.  I just have to watch myself and remain in balance.  As a minor nod towards the indoors, I laundered the couch and chair covers today (doggo furs, ya know).  And it's not just inside cleaning/housework and outside gardening...it's, "when you gonna do some art, Therese?" It's, "when are you gonna practice that writing??"  The answers to those questions?  Maybe this week.

I'm thinking of past present future.  I'm thinking of balance.  I'm thinking of, who am I and what am I doing here???  I'm thinking of how furiously working helps me get out of my head for a bit, to be less lonely, to feel like I have some purpose (the plants need me...Avery needs me).  So I have no profound words here, I have not profound art.  Moving back into normalcy, that was never quite normal...it's hard to find that place of comfort and contentment, that place that is less unsettled.  

 

Saturday

As usual, I worked  *stream of consciousness* fashion in the yards today.  I knew the back needed mowing, but I also wanted to get going on mulching out front. 

The goal is to get all the garden mulched under either the remaining wood chips or compost.  I decided to mix my own compost blend, using what I could dig out from the bottom of the leaf pile, freshly shredded dried leaves and a bag of manure.  This gave me enough material to mulch all the veggie plants.  But..I've got a lot more to go, which may require a trip to the nursery for either mushroom compost or leaf mold.  But that'll wait until tomorrow.

Out back, it's looking almost park like (on the lawn areas anyway).  The fire pit is filled and ready to use as well...a little evening entertainment on the horizon, perhaps?

No writing today (except this...does this count?).  Many thoughts in my head and sometimes I think I should start recording as I go and transcribe later!  Photography is so much easier for me (and what do I offer here, but an iphone pano image!  not exactly high art).

 

 

what I am made for

For as long as I can remember, certainly since adulthood, the underlying theme in my life has been to discover my authentic self.  This wasn’t always intellectually considered, but when examining how I’ve lived I realize that’s what it’s about.  And I have to say, labeling it as such doesn’t really help...bringing the idea into the thinking space can really close off the flow.

Letting go of the thinking, I play the observer.  What makes me feel the most alive and joyful...what makes my spirit hum?  It’s the giddiness I feel when the sunshine comes in at just the right angle, landing on the array of necklaces hanging next to the mirror, refracting the light all over the walls.  It’s the audible squeals of delight I make upon finding a new sprout, bud or blossom in the garden.  It’s the zap in my solar plexus I experience when reading about the lives of artists and spiritual seekers and the resulting jolt of inspiration.  Even the mundane practice of making a successful fermented ginger soda that actually results in a super bubbly, spicy cup, totally jazzes me. 

And then I think...this is what I’m made for?  Really?  Making lacto fermented soda in my kitchen?  While it’s a funny thing to consider, deep within there’s a resounding yes!!  Yes, I’m made to experiment with plants and food and arcane photographic processes.  I’m made for the excited discussions with neighbors who pass my garden and ask about what’s growing.  No, I’m not an expert but what I lack in methodology and patiently following the rules, I make up for in dedication and enthusiasm...which oddly seems to work.  I’m made for connecting people to each other, for offering resources from my vast array of strange accumulated knowledge.  I’m made for collecting, sharing and creating beauty...my own kind of beauty I might add, which might not be to everyone’s tastes.  I’m made to be a compassionate, supportive friend and willing helper, despite my sometimes weird lack of warmth (coming from cold eastern European ancestors).  It does seem I’m made for the constant search for an authentic life, without which I’ll never truly thrive.

 

 

 

 

 

where did the day go?

I started out this morning, setting up a chair outside in the sun, in the garden, to do my fifteen minutes of wild writing.  Something caught my attention...probably Avery wandering a bit too close to the road...and the intention to write evaporated.   I was off to grab a bucket and a spade.

As usual when I work in the garden, I start out one place, with one task, then move around as if I were a bee searching for nectar.  Or maybe I simply have a very short attention span when I tend to my plants.  Weed a little in point A, dump out my bucket, on the way back to to point A, point B says "hey look at these tomato cages, don't you want to get those set up before the plants get too big?"  Get point B task done, then point C says, "you need to feed those plants some of this compost now, right?"  Point C task gets done and it's back to point A...for a while.  And with that, many hours pass with many points being recipients of my ministrations, as I criss cross the yard.

I'm a little tired by all the puttering now ("putter"...a word I love but it often doesn't convey the actual effort put into a task)...and I'm not sure I'm going to get to the wild writing.  I'm here though, writing in another place, in another way, which is energy in that general direction.

I took a camera out after all the watering was done.  The late afternoon dappled light landed on a very old (and blooming) arugula, on a poppy already closed up shop for the day, on the lovely stand of foxgloves beginning to form.  It's not hard for me to understand why it's so easy to get sidetracked in the garden. 

Now, at 6pm, the next question is...what will I eat tonight?  I'm off to get that answered promptly!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

back among the living

I received my second dose of COVID vaccine on Monday morning.  By the time I was going to bed that night, I suspected I had a fever because of headache and general tension in my body.  The fever probably lasted most of Tuesday.  When I woke up this morning, Wednesday, I was sweaty and knew I'd broken the fever.  Since I don't own a thermometer (no good reason not to, I just never got one) I can't say how high the fever was.  But knowing my body as I do, I could tell that's what was happening.

At first I thought that my reaction wasn't that big of a deal.  My normal state of being seems to be sub par anyway, so was I really feeling that poorly?  I can say with some confidence now, yeah, I was...because I feel vastly different this morning.  Wow, I guess I don't feel that crappy as a default after all!

It's worth it though, to know I'm taking care of myself and the community around me.  It's a small price to pay.  Would I have been someone who had serious consequences from contracting COVID?  I don't know.  But I do know I could have potentially passed it on to others who might eventually suffer profoundly.  I made a reasonable, informed and compassionate choice.

 

 

 

Monday

Gray skies, rain, temperatures dropping.  Up early-ish...appointment for second vax...been and back.  Laundry done.  Ginger beer ferment started.  Wandered the yard to check on plants...everything still in place.  Deer at the bird feeder during the night...barkfest on at least three occasions...I think I need a nap.  Waiting to see what reaction, if any, from this second COVID shot happens.  I swear the person wound back to jab me this time (first time, didn't feel a thing!).  Sat in on Zoom talk about writing...trying to make sense of it (cart before the horse in my circumstance, but informative nonetheless).  It's already 2:30pm?  How did that happen?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mothering myself

I have mixed feelings about Mother's Day.  It seems like an invention to serve a commercial intent (edit:  the original intent was not what the day has morphed into, actually).  On the other hand...as a mother myself...I've always enjoyed being acknowledged for my contribution to the lives of others.  On the other hand I'm painfully aware of my shortcomings on that front...which were probably at least partially affected by my own mother's limitations.  Oh...it's a mixed bag for sure.

Last week my son visited.  At some point in the coming months, I hope to travel out west and see my daughter and son-in-law.  I have to say, I love being with my kids.  These two have grown into such wonderful humans...smart, creative, thoughtful.  I'm actually in awe of their accomplishments and dedication to life.

Over the years I've come to understand how I was affected by a lack of certain things, in my own upbringing...in the mothering by my own mother.  I feel no malice or blame towards her.  She was a product of her own upbringing combined with whatever innate traits she was born with...aren't we all?  Despite this, I recognize her positive attributes as well...curiosity for one, and a random ability to be intuitively perceptive about some things.

At this point in my life, I understand that it's up to me to offer myself the mothering I may have missed out on.  It's up to me to nourish myself with good food, spiritual fodder and healing ministration.  It's up to me to be the compassionate shoulder I may need, but also the firm pusher into facing my fears.  There's a lot of reflection and self talk involved in all of this.  It's a practice that will be with me throughout my lifetime.

I've created a life with particular attention to beauty...the beauty that I surround myself with and the beauty that I bring awareness to (and often express in my art).  This is one of the primary ways I mother and nourish myself.  It's the garden with herbs to smell and taste, flowers to offer color and fragrance, vegetables and fruit to feed my body.   I cook, make medicine, experiment.  I read to expand my mind.  I write and photograph and play with art to release those emotions that need to be free and connect to others.  And that mother part of me sits back and says, "you go, woman!  you be you!"