July is a difficult month to show up for a challenge every day. On a hot afternoon, I feel lazy and move like a sloth. It’s tempting to curl up with a book or curl up and snooze. Knowing that a little slothing can start an avalanche of napping, I’m putting an extreme effort here for the 9th day of the Ultimate Blog Challenge.
This morning, knowing that it was going to be a hot day, I took the opportunity to sit with tea on my newly cleaned deck. I let everything fall away and lost myself in my new book from the library. All That Life Can Afford is a easy light read. It’s just the ticket for me. And I was in a perfect moment, in a perfect spot. It was early morning, in morning sunshine, still cool with a slight breeze. I could hear the birds and traffic from our busy street. All was right with me.
A cool but sunny morning. I couldn’t get my early morning fix in the greenhouse. The door was frozen. No way it would budge. I had to wait a couple of hours for it to warm up from 5+℃ to 10+℃ before I could get in. Everything is hunky dory in there. And in a short time the temperature went up to 10.5℃.
Talking about hunky dory, some people might not know what I’m talking about, especially the younger crowd. Hmmm. I’m aging myself. I was surprised that my nephews didn’t know what going to the biffy meant. (bathroom) So I was greatly amused to read a friend’s post on FB about this. I have to share it.
No wonder generations don’t understand each other: Heavens to Mergatroyd! The other day a not so elderly (I say 75) lady said something to her son about driving a Jalopy; and he looked at her and said, “What the heck is a Jalopy?” He had never heard of the word jalopy! She knew she was old …But not that old. Well, I hope you are Hunky Dory when you read this and chuckle. About a month ago, I illuminated some old expressions that have become obsolete because of the inexorable march of technology. These phrases included: Don’t touch that dial; Carbon copy; You sound like a broken record; and Hung out to dry. Back in the olden days we had a lot of moxie . We’d put on our best bib and tucker, to straighten up and fly right. Heavens to Betsy! Gee whillikers! Jumping Jehoshaphat! Holy Moley! We were in like Flynn and living the life of Riley ; and even a regular guy couldn’t accuse us of being a knucklehead, a nincompoop or a pill. Not for all the tea in China! Back in the olden days, life used to be swell, but when’s the last time anything was swell? Swell has gone the way of beehives, pageboys and the D.A.; of spats, knickers, fedoras, poodle skirts, saddle shoes, and pedal pushers. Oh, my aching back! Kilroy was here, but he isn’t anymore. We wake up from what surely has been just a short nap, and before we can say, “Well, I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” Or, “This is a fine kettle of fish!” We discover that the words we grew up with, the words that seemed omnipresent, as oxygen, have vanished with scarcely a notice from our tongues and our pens and our keyboards. Poof, go the words of our youth. Where have all those great phrases gone? Long gone: Pshaw, The milkman did it. Hey! It’s your nickel. Don’t forget to pull the chain. Knee high to a grasshopper. Well, Fiddlesticks! Going like sixty. I’ll see you in the funny papers. Don’t take any wooden nickels. Wake up and smell the roses. It turns out there are more of these lost words and expressions than Carter has liver pills. This can be disturbing stuff! (Carter’s Little Liver Pills are gone too!) Leaves us to wonder where Superman will find a phone booth. See ya later, alligator! After a while crocodile. Oki-Doki artichokey
So how’s everybody on this fine Saturday morning? 10 days left for the Ultimate Blog Challenge. 10 days left to do my taxes. Yike!
Writing is hard to do these days. I’ve been sitting on this one sentence for days now. I should know by now words don’t write themselves and conversations don’t start on their own. There has to be some initiative, effort, desire and work for success in anything. So here I sit, on this sunny Sunday, working to find some meaningful words.I shall take the morning to relax and explore my way back to them. Life lately has been a blur of gardening, harvesting and processing our crops. It’s hard to stop but I shall try.
I’m missing the sun of early summer days when the world was lit at 5ish in the morning. Now it is still dark at 6. At least we have bright clear sunshine today. No clouds or smoke and the sun is not a fiery red. It was a cool 6℃ out but the sun made it nice and warm in the sunroom. I was able to leave the blinds opened and watch the sun dance on the walls.
In the life before the Internet, Facebook and Intagram, my mornings usually start off with breakfast of toast and tea and listening to CBC radio. That was on my days off from work at the hospital. On my work days, I was up before 6. I would feed Sheba (my dog) and then take her out for a walk. I did not have breakfast but make a big mug of tea and head out for work at 7 for my 7:30 shift. I would have breakfast on my morning coffee break. Thinking about it now, I wonder if I could skip the morning scrolling on my devices and listen to the radio instead. I’m tired of being bombarded by courses to improve myself and my life. What instead of reading about it, I just do the work?
Meanwhile, I am working hard with my growing spaces. I’m learning by doing, experimenting, making mistakes, etc. What if I apply that to other areas of my life? What if I just do the work instead of collecting data on how to? I’m opened to being surprised.
It is still April. The morning is mighty fine. I love how the sun comes through the windows and dances on the walls of the sun room and dining room at this hour. Everything is bathed in soft buttery light. I bask in its glow, appreciating the moment, knowing it will be gone soon. This is what makes me feel lucky, knowing and appreciating the now.
Yes, I am sitting and holding this space from Kat McNally’s #AprilMoon. I’m tap, tapping out the words from my fingertips. I feel lucky, too, that I am able to do this – to breathe through my nose all the way down to my fingertips. The words come out, one by one. They march across the screen, forming words and sentences. They give me life and sustenance. They help me live in the moment. They anchor me in the now.
Sometimes I drift away, carried off by my thoughts, of course. They are devious and intrusive – full of trickery. I am mindful of them. They can deceive you with their false truths. I try not to spend time in that space of wondering – ‘if I will ever’. Thoughts cannot do the deed. Thinking is just thinking but it sure can burn up the energy.
I try to stay in the here and now, not examining the past nor wondering about the future. I like it here, tap, tapping and watching the sun dance on the walls. It is peaceful. It is healing.
I woke up this morning and it was still -3 C. I opened my eyes and the sun was shining through the window. I got out of bed and found Sheba laying in a pool of sunlight, so content with herself.
The dining room table was a feast of green, full of bedding plants coming in for the night. It was a great way to greet the day – sunlight, greens and a happy dog.
The light danced off the walls, highlighting and casting shadows, reminding me of life – light and shadows, good and bad, the yin and the yang. And I moved and flowed through my morning qigong routine.
Hurray, it is 6:30 am and the sun is up and so am I. The house is suffused with the quiet and soft light of early morning.
I love this time of the day when the city is still asleep. Traffic is sparse and slow. It is quiet and peaceful. I can think. I can feel. This is my favourite vantage point, in my sun room, looking through the dining room into the living room. The lines and spaces are very pleasing to the eye. I feel pride in myself for having created it all by myself.
We must acknowledge and feel pride at our accomplishments. They fuel our passions….to live and to build. Passions need not always be fiery and grand. Sometimes they show up in our quiet moments. Our creative flair can appear in the soups, bread, pastries and snow forts we build on a whim.
onethousandandtwo 