Sunday, September 16, 2012

night frets

So long as there are tomatoes ripening on the kitchen counter, there will be fruit flies. That's just the way it is.

Ed, who once worked in a science lab with fruit flies reassures me that their life span is very, very short.

And so long as there is an ounce of energy left in Ed, he will persevere in living his convictions, some that I should think need a dusting and an infusion of modernity, but no, not according to him. They are his and they are what they are. This last sentence is really an answer to all those wonderful and kind Ocean reading souls who have urged me to urge him to go to the doctor. Indeed, doctor friends have urged me to urge him. But don't you see -- I can't do it. He takes chances that way. It is who he is.

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hummingbird, for once -- resting

And so after a night of high fevers (Thursday), I have a night of relative quiet (Friday) and I think I am done with this illness of his, whatever it is and then boom! The third night (Saturday) he's hot again and I listen to him pant in his sleep and I gently and ever so quietly reach for his pulse and yes, it's high and yes, he's warm and then he wakes up and reminds me that he wants to be left to his sleep.

You can say a million things about the rightness or wrongness (probably the latter) of this approach, but I think I ought to warn you -- attempting to *change* someone is not likely a good starting point. He is determined to follow his own nose on this one, duke it out himself,  and if it kills him, so be it. This, from a man who loves science, fruit flies (or the study of such), loves innovation, loves clever and novel approaches to old problems facing the world. He's been too healthy too long to worry now about being in need of care.

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the ever beautiful nasturtium and alyssum

If you're from the Midwest, you'll know that this was one beautiful day -- full of gentle sunshine and balmy warmth -- the last such day we are told and I believe it. It almost felt unreal now, in the middle of September when the leaves are starting to turn dusty greens or worse  -- dusty brown.

I stayed indoors cleaning the farmhouse. Not much of the wedding centers around the farmhouse, but still, it must be ready as we all must be ready, just in case.

And I went to yoga. I had to.

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trying on the wedding shoes after slipping into yoga stuff

Child's pose: clear the mind of this undefined menace at home, clear the soul of anxiety, forget about the hours at night listening to that rapid pant next to me, ease into a stretch, inhale, exhale.

The ride back on Rosie is splendid, but as I zip past the tennis courts, I csn't help but think -- wow, how quickly patterns can change and life can take off in odd directions.

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In the evening I cook chicken stew (with garden tomatoes!)...

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... the young couple arrives -- the last Sunday meal where they are together but not married. Ed comes down and joins us because it is such a happy time right now that even he cannot resist being part of it.

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And then he is upstairs and I am downstairs and Isis is with us and I wait for the night to see if finally the fever has disappeared for good and we can return to normal again.