Today is one of those perfect, perfect Saturdays. I hear the Sandpipers song, Come Saturday Morning in my head.
“Come Saturday morning
I’m going away with my friend
We’ll Saturday-spend to the end of the day
Just I and my friend
We’ll travel for miles in our Saturday smiles
And then we’ll move on
But we’ll remember long after Saturday’s gone”
The song brings a picture of a happy sunny spring morning. And I am feeling mellow and happy. There is a spring to my step as Sheba and I started out on our walk.
The sun was shining, the air fresh and warm. The birds were singing their own melodies. In the park the children had ball practice. Sheba and I watched awhile and then we went on our way home.
The day has flown by. My peas and beans are finally coming up as well as the carrots. The potatoes are pushing their way out of the soil. As much as I love the birds in the yard, I do not want to share my garden goods with them yet.
I heard that shiny objects deter them. I hung a couple of shiny red bags along the fence where the peas are and strung some ribbons on the obelisk for the scarlet runners.
It looks a bit like a party, doesn’t it? I hope the birds don’t think and come!
I was so envious of Sheba this morning. There she was, asleep on the rug, not a care in the world, not a tense bone in her body – at perfect ease.
That’s the state I am seldom in. But I am improving. I’m reading Lissa Rankin’s book, Mind Over Medicine and becoming more aware of how I am living and my un-ease. It’s not all about doing the proper things like diet, exercise and genetics. There’s much more.
There’s our attitudes, moods and a thing call happiness that affects our health and our ability to heal ourselves. I did not know that I was living in a constant state of distress until I left the world of nursing – code Blues, stats, call bells and bedpan alley.
Now I know and it is the next morning.
I listened and heeded my body and went to bed instead of finishing this post last night. I needed sleep and knew if I stayed up, sleep might escape me. And I have slept well in the night and up early this morning. I drank my lemon water and did my qigong routines, guiding my body and mind into ease for the coming day.
The birds are singing, the sun is shining. Sheba is resting after our romp in the park. I will leave her sleeping self be. I could learn to relax myself watching her.
I sipped my tea, thinking of how I will weave my story for the Friday Fictioneers post. Life is good. I can relax. It is okay.
The rains has stopped. The days are a bit cooler but the sun is competing with the clouds. Perfect weather for more planting. I am excited and impassioned. I have the green bug in me.
We rushed out to Dutch Growers yesterday and came home with 2 Beta Grapes. They are planted along the side of the sun room. This morning the frame for the vines to climb up was erected. Hopefully next summer I will be picking blue-black grapes and making juice and jelly – and maybe wine.
It looks like the clouds are now winning. A light rain would be welcomed. Perfect for my grapes and raspberries to get a good start. Someone up there likes me! How great is HE!
I better take advantage and run out and put in my onion sets, scarlet runners and more carrots.
“T’was just a garden in the rain
Close to a little leafy lane
A touch of color ‘neath skies of gray
The raindrops kissed the flowerbeds
The blossoms raised their leafy heads
A perfumed thank you
They seemed to say”
“Surely here was charm beyond Compare to view Maybe it was just that I was there with you “
“T’was just a garden in the rain But then the sun came out again And sent us happily on our way”
And the sun just came out now and I’m onto the rest of my day.
After a couple of days of heat, the clouds and the showers came. It was a welcomed relief for the garden and gardener. I took the opportunity to do a bit more planting in between raindrops. Two raspberry bushes went into a sunny corner, right in front of the cherry tomatoes. One will produce red fruits in midsummer and the other gold in autumn. I don’t imagine they will fruit this year but I can always hope.
I had really neglected my green thumb the last few years. It was really hard doing shift work and raising Sheba. Something had to give. Gardening was one of them. I used to spend endless happy hours starting seedlings and transplanting in the spring. And later, I moved things here and there, hauled gravel and created flower beds.
Somewhere, sometime, when I wasn’t paying attention, everything went to pots. And as a result, my yard became a mess – over run with ground-covers and weeds. The pots stood empty except for dirt and weeds. But now, my green thumb has returned. The flower bed and pots are lovingly filled again.
The ground-covers and weeds are still running wild. They will be tamed in good time.
I think summer has finally come. We are rejoicing in the sunshine and the warm. It’s a bit of a shock to the system to adjust from a single digit temperature to a sizzling 30 degrees overnight. Some of us take refuge in the shade.
We have our first bloom in the flower bed. And the last two raised beds are planted with peppers, tomatoes and celery. Now it’s time to sit back and see how they do.
It is morning again, already! The sun is shining right in my eyes. I am tired. My fingers are stiff, the knuckles swollen and sore. Too much work in the garden yesterday.
I have lost my words for a few days. Once lost, it takes some work to coax them back. So I am limbering up these tired old fingers. I’m pecking away on the keyboard, one word at a time, one slow thought at a time.
Our raised beds are all built, lined and filled with topsoil – all four of them. Two of them are planted. Two more to go. They are looking quite handsome but I am sure some irate neighbour will find some fault even though it is on our property. Such is my neighbourhood. I am so envious of hearing others talk about their neighbours and a sense of community.
Not that my neighbours are such terrible people. But I have not felt a sense of community amid them for a long time. I hear their sad stories about their troubled teens, ugly husbands, messy divorces. I tolerate their shouting matches and loud music. They complain about my dog. Sometimes they make more noise than Sheba.
But I feel a change in the air. The ‘hood is changing. Or maybe it is I who is changing.
I’m fading fast. I’m losing momentum. My flag is sagging, hanging limp by my side. I’m talking about my zest, my oomph, my joie de vivre – my burning desire to be the best that I could be. I’m even losing some of my cantankerousness. I will be no more without that!
The thing not to do is give up those things that are working for me. But if do, I need to have the discipline to pick up where I left off and not start over from the beginning.
And that is precisely what I am doing. I am going against my grain. I’m ditching my usual ‘au contraire’ self. I am defying my defiance. It is not working for me.
So I heave a great big sigh. There, I am feeling better! I’ve done a lot. I’ve acknowledged much. Admitting my rebellious, contrary nature is a huge thing. I am a very stubborn person. The Chinese would say I have a very hard throat.
The phrase makes perfect sense. If you are stubborn like me, it is very hard to give in. When you do, it is difficult to say it. You’re almost choking out the words. I’m practicing to be more graceful and not choke on my words.