I woke up feeling pretty crappy today -- depressed, anxious, disappointed. My usual positive point of view darkened by the situation with my car dying, our financial reality and T.'s bad attitude. And then there's the feeling of a lack of sympathy and comfort.
I did seek comfort in biscuits, which while comforting at first -- slightly salty, a bit of crunch on the outside, soft fluffy and warm on the inside, the butter clarifying as it melts into the center -- just became another symbol of my misery and the tendency toward excess which got me into this emotional state in the first place as I ate way too many biscuits, so that on top of everything else, I suffer remorse and shame for my appetites.
As I poured myself coffee this morning, my mind raced through my miserable thoughts playing scenarios of avoidance ("I'm not going to talk to anyone today") to scenarios of confrontation ("I want to talk to you! You are just so. . .") My misery itself a source of conflict as I thought of my friend who recently lost her husband and is struggling with her grief over that tragic death; and another friend who has no money whatsoever but rich, rich aspirations; and another who negotiates his nuerosis and health and personal mess as best as he can. In reality, I have nothing to complain about, and yet. . .this moment, quite frankly, is challenging.
I took my misery, my coffee and a book into the garden. The garden is fragrant with pink jasmine and lemon blossoms. A chorus of birds call and respond, hidden in the trees of our garden and our neighbor's, their songs the conversation of spring which has arrived with heart-warming sun and a gentle breeze so that within moments of sitting in the comfortable garden chair with my feet propped up, the the dire misery I was almost relishing started to dissipate and the beauty that I noticed in the minutae of our little messy backyard delighted me!
The succulents in pots on the patio have all grown and those with variegated leaves are particularly charming, reminding me of the finish of vintage pottery -- red-lined yellow leaves blending into green, pink blushed tips, and the silver sentinels of the ice plant. The mallow has grown so now it is a screen across the ragged wood fence making me wish we had planted it across the entire far side, its flowers delicate and lovely magenta-centered-pink mandala's, friendly and lovely. The penis flower bush is erect, almost ready to show its colors, the flower stalks tall, firm, but not yet showing their purple burst. Cat mint is growing back, lush and green at the foot of the lavendar which is sprawling, a hotbed of bee activity. The butterfly bush seems to yet again have expanded its girth. H. placed the bird bath where the pomegranate tree was before we moved it to the front and it makes a terrific focal point with artemesia and licorice flanking its base. And I consider the improvements I would like to make -- replace the bench that was moved when we cleared up, add more irisina, plant white lantana under the lemon tree. . .such forward thinking thoughts themselves a harbinger of hope.
(Photo courtesy of Phil Sellens via flickr)
All Mixed Up at ccMixter
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Thank you, Mrs. J.
Well written, candid and evocative. You da bomb.
Love and other nice things,
Beverly
I was just thinking how much I miss the fence-ledge just behind our tiny home in La Crescenta, which we sold some 10 years ago to move to Texas. The little patio behind the house was bordered by a little cinderblock wall. The top of that wall made a lovely ledge for cacti. My succulents bloomed there, and thrived so long as I remembered to pull them in before the Santa Ana winds blew them over. I miss that time of easy succulent blooms.
When I lived in Los Angeles, and I felt stressed from work, I'd drive on a Sunday evening to the Pines hiking trail where the Angeles Crest Highway meets the Angeles Forest Highway. That area has a few large Monterey pines, but lots of
chapparal trees. I loved the way the birdsong and cool air greeted the dusk there.
I am glad you were able to dissipate dire misery in blooms and forward thinking thoughts. I hope that the external things that helped cause the blues dissipate a bit. The wildflowers have just begun here, and I cannot wait until our butterfly bush is back in bloom, and little winged things fill our backyard.
Beverly and Bob -- you both rock! I'm so glad you are in my life!
Post a Comment