|A simple yellow Gladiolus, species not cultivar, but I don't know which. Bought this years ago at the sadly-now-defunct Island Specialty Nursery in Chemainus. . . .|
I think I'm hoping for a balance between getting the house and life in general sorted and organized -- all the detritus shifted, the daily necessaries more conveniently located, all corners dusted and shone, inventories made and filed, whether actually or virtually -- and making sure there will be some uncaptured time in which desire can emerge. . . .I have a tendency to castigate my own laziness. My husband would correct me to say that my tendency is to call myself lazy when I'm merely resting or reading or amusing myself with some activity that doesn't fit a strict enough definition of work or productivity. This goes way back and I'm unlikely to change just because I'm retired, but I'd like to find a way to be kinder to myself and to enjoy a productivity and creativity that keeps me energized.
|The gladiolus again, along with some of its co-bloomers by the pond.|
|I love, love, love these Siberian Irises, given to me by a friend many years ago, a division from a plant in her nearby garden.|
Next item on my organizational list is to compile a list of our many accounts and somehow find a secure way to keep their passwords sorted and find-able for those who might need them in an emergency. Or, say, if I get so stressed about cleaning toilets that my memory fails (joke!). At the moment, all that information is in my head (I've always looked after the banking, although Pater has taken on some of the financial tasks since his retirement). It only seems wise to get it on paper -- and I know, I'm sure there are all sorts of safe ways to park this information in The Cloud somewhere, but have you ever read Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale. Or any other dystopic novel about "the machine" either failing or taking us over? Naive though it may be, I like to have a paper version. . .
This stage, with all my list-making and puttering and planning too much and fretting just a little, reminds me of what my yoga instructors tell us when we're settling into a class, breathing, letting go of all those thoughts about the past and worries about the future. Rather than fight the intrusive thoughts, they always say, just let them arise, and observe them, and then try to get back to the breath. It's the only sure thing, and it can anchor us, if we let it. As does the garden, for me. . .
Indulge me, then, if you will, but don't worry too much about my transition. I'm not as fretful about it as I might appear, but interested, rather, in all the fuss and noise it's evoking. I'm quite confident that much of this will fall away, eventually, and I'll find my new parameters. Meanwhile, I welcome your comments, as usual, and I hope you enjoy these sunny pond plants. . . .Happy Monday!