This Tospy-Turvy planter is watered daily, and still it wilts. It has just been too hot. This week I placed the patio umbrella over the potted plants to shade them from direct sun. Wilt. With no control over the temperatures, I do what I can and let go. That's a farming/gardening lesson, anyway.
Today, summer feels stifling, like when I was a child. I grew up hating summer vacations. It meant long hot days at home with my mother and a continually growing list of chores. We rose early in the mornings to beat the heat and then spent the remainder of the day sitting still. I learned early to read, write and think. No, we did not watch the boob-tube. We had a complete set of Funk and Wagnalls encyclopedias. I digress...
I almost booked a flight to San Francisco. I haven't received a start day for the last job offer. I haven't gotten an interview where I thought I had the hook-up. And no reply to my text. Only form replies acknowledging my other applications wait in my inbox. Travel seems the easy and exciting answer. That is what I love to do. Drinking my coffee and journalling, I am startled.
I want a massage but think it is too expensive. I'm out of tequila and saving my last shots of Glen Livet for National Scotch Day (July 27, 2012). I hold on to every dollar I get (after charitable giving), and am incredibly frugal with every nickle. Yet, I easily rationalize the airfare, transport, and food/yoga/fun in the city. This is bigger than priorities. It speaks to what I believe is important. What feeds my heart and soul. What I truly want in my life - to travel, write, and drink beer. (I'm out of beer.)
It has been a RUDE summer. Too hot to work outside. Too dry to grow efficiently. Too much, just too much.
If I had been employed I would have been inside for eight plus hours of the heat. I would have had less time and energy to devote to worrying about my garden. However, I may have been willing to water more since I would have had a steady income.
Today I realized all the years I dreamed of being home in the summer to tend my garden have come true. This was not what I expected. Time, yes. But that's all.
Still, I am thankful for my time to be in my space. I love being at home. And even though the paint sits in the corner and the mulch stayed in the bag, I know that fall will be here as well. I pray I am working, but between shifts I will pull weeds, dig hostas, till the garden, roll the compost. The forecast has us just below triple digits so I will do what I can. Just like the peppers.
When it's too hot to move, we will quietly wilt in the shade. Hydrated and exhausted reading a good book and pondering life (which I must confess, is part of my dream).
For this is what we do. Put one foot forward and then the other. Lift our eyes to the snarl and smile of the world once more. Think. Act. Feel. Add our little consequence to the tides of good and evil that flood and drain the world. Drag our shadowed crosses into the hope of another night. Push our brave hearts into the promise of a new day. With love: the passionate search for truth other than our own. With longing: the pure, ineffable yearning to be saved. For so long as fate keeps waiting, we live on. God help us. God forgive us. We live on.From my favorite book - Shantaram by Gregory David Roberts.
What are you reading this summer?
Tomorrow, National Scotch Day, my new writing project, and *he-he* what I did buy.