I surely struggle with consistency and energy. I suppose you do, too. It’s always good to have company. It’s my words I’m struggling with now. But I’ve come to my space. The keyboard is on my lap, my cup of tea nearby. Across the back alley, the roofers are tap, tap,tapping with their hammers. They sound like woodpeckers. A crow caws nearby.
It’s a perfect August day. The sun shining. The petunias and nasturiums nodding their heads in the breeze. I shall just sit here and not worry so much about accomplishing and doing. It is trying that I can’t quite get my shit together. But really, what does that mean anyways? Oh brother, Sheba is next to me. She’s just let go some of her metal-melting farts. Phew!
I’m feeling like hell in the mornings, waking with aching in every possible joint – down to the toes. I just know that autumn is in the air even if I didn’t know what month it is. Changes are coming. Changes are here. Some of it’s scary. A lot of it is frightening – neo-Nazis, White Supremacists, Donald Trump, neighbours… The list is long. It’s good to ventilate, even if it is just listing. At least I’ve identified some of the things nagging at me. I’m not just whistling in the dark.
I have pushed my way through the wet paper bag. I’ve broken free. Despite my fatigue, I’ve trimmed off the dead raspberry canes, gathered up some other garden wastes and deposited them all in the Green Bin. The City truck has kindly come by. I’ve dumped a bag of peat moss in the front flower bed. I hope that will give the petunias there a much needed boost.
The hammering is getting more insistent – and annoying. It’s not conducive to my tapping any more. It’s giving me a headache. It’s a sign to close shop. I think I work best in short spurts. I just need to have more spurts in a day.