“Things didn’t turn out the way that they were supposed to, but what can you do? You must take life the way it comes at you and make the best of it” ~Yann Martel, Life of Pi
I finished Life of Pi. While there were some aspects of it that I liked, I did not enjoy reading it. I do not enjoy gruesome violence. And yet at the end it left me with many things to think about. And I feel like it could inspire many deep and intriguing conversations. I think I’ll pass it on to the teenager who has a high threshold for gore and hold it back from the one who, like me, is more sensitive to such things.
I love the way that rain and dew cling to lady’s mantle. I have mixed feelings about this year’s garden. I try to spend any time out there in the front, where most of the flowers are. Ever changing, wild masses at a distance and pure delicate beauty up close, they are cheering. For now anyway. If I don’t find the strength and time to put some serious work in on them, they will quickly be over run, much like sections of our vegetable garden…
In theory a garden bed exists under this. The back, our beloved kitchen garden, mostly makes me feel anxious and guilty. I haven’t had the strength for it and the open land is reclaimed so quickly. It’s over-whelming. Steve has spearheaded a work team on weekends and occasional evenings. Slowly, with the help of the kids, the garden is being brought back in hand. On my own I’ll go out and try to do a bit here and there, only to be thwarted by some minor setback, throw my hands up in the air and retreat.
When she thinks we’re not watching, this one makes a beeline for the stone wall and deftly scales it, hoping to go exploring in the woods before anyone notices she’s gone. When caught she quickly turns around, with her hands in her lap and a painted on expression of sweet innocence and declares with tellingly over-dramatic force and emotion, “I just sittin’ here!”
In the last two weeks I’ve knitted almost an entire adult sweater- body, button bands, collar, one full sleeve and two-thirds of a second. If nothing else it is surely a personal record. Ironically, this must make me sound like a lady of leisure. If only that were true. One of my children has been very ill, in a way that keeps us both up late into the night, every night. I crawl into bed, desperate and weak, as the birds begin their morning serenade. Most of the time there is not much I can do, beyond being present. Luna moths bounce off the window screens, while we watch 60′s sitcoms as a distraction from the pain, our skin becomes polka-dotted with no-see-um bites and, in between providing all the practical care I can, I knit in an attempt to stay sharp and sane.