Breakfast, in the beauty of the windowed kitchen.
Outside -- it's raining again.
I was chatting with a physician about one thing or another (for example -- being excessively busy came up in the conversation) and she said -- have you considered going to relaxation therapy? (I'm guessing it's like physical therapy, except you're working on a wounded spirit rather than a pulled muscle.)
Well now, if I scheduled relaxation lessons, I'd be even more busy, wouldn't I? Yoga, for example, was my strategic relaxation class and I haven't gone since the semester started. There's a reason for that.
But she persisted. She thinks I need to slow down. Sleep longer. Etc.
Ha! All that will happen when I retire!
Retire? She asks. My, that sounds good! (I should note that I'd place her age at around 32.)
I almost retorted -- meet you in relaxation class! -- but I didn't. Perhaps she doesn't have time for that kind of indulgence. Mindfulness, relaxation -- all noble ideas, if you have time to pause to consider them.
Still, I do get the message. And to prove to myself that I am on the ball, a slow rolling ball at that, I pause on my way home at Owen Park. It is one of the loveliest places in Madison to admire the changing palate of autumn colors. Surely checking in on the foliage there would give me the needed balance for an otherwise full day.
But I never leave the car. The photos are taken from a rolled down window.
Why? Because I'm already late for my next meeting.
I breathe in the scent of a mossy, wet forest...
...take one more picture from the seat of the car...
...and then get going.
In other news, we are bracing for frost next week. I don't mind the frost. I do mind that we haven't done the work to get the farmette ready for winter. The raspberry patch is in shreds. The old limbs on the many trees here need to be sawed off. Several packs of bulbs need to be planted. The porch needs a paint job. And the new orchard -- oh, the new orchard! It so needs our attention! It will never survive another winter of deer unless we build shields to protect it!
I add these things to my to do list and wonder if I should put at the bottom of it -- "attend relaxation sessions."
Still later, Ed comes home, listens to my summary of the day and steps in to take charge of my relaxation issues: Tennis. Now!
I am terrible at first, better as we play. It takes me a while to unwind.
On the ride home we wave to Framer Lee. It may be that this is the last of it -- that we may never see her harvesting flowers across the road again.
She waves her hand, pretending to hide from my camera. The flowers, Lee! I shout. It's all about the flowers!
Isis greets us as we pull in with that meow that says -- where have you been?!
Come inside, dear boy, I tell him. It's time to fix dinner. I got some fresh fish at the market. You can have the skin.
He appears happy with the idea. I settle in to cook.
Outside -- it's raining again.
I was chatting with a physician about one thing or another (for example -- being excessively busy came up in the conversation) and she said -- have you considered going to relaxation therapy? (I'm guessing it's like physical therapy, except you're working on a wounded spirit rather than a pulled muscle.)
Well now, if I scheduled relaxation lessons, I'd be even more busy, wouldn't I? Yoga, for example, was my strategic relaxation class and I haven't gone since the semester started. There's a reason for that.
But she persisted. She thinks I need to slow down. Sleep longer. Etc.
Ha! All that will happen when I retire!
Retire? She asks. My, that sounds good! (I should note that I'd place her age at around 32.)
I almost retorted -- meet you in relaxation class! -- but I didn't. Perhaps she doesn't have time for that kind of indulgence. Mindfulness, relaxation -- all noble ideas, if you have time to pause to consider them.
Still, I do get the message. And to prove to myself that I am on the ball, a slow rolling ball at that, I pause on my way home at Owen Park. It is one of the loveliest places in Madison to admire the changing palate of autumn colors. Surely checking in on the foliage there would give me the needed balance for an otherwise full day.
But I never leave the car. The photos are taken from a rolled down window.
Why? Because I'm already late for my next meeting.
I breathe in the scent of a mossy, wet forest...
...take one more picture from the seat of the car...
...and then get going.
In other news, we are bracing for frost next week. I don't mind the frost. I do mind that we haven't done the work to get the farmette ready for winter. The raspberry patch is in shreds. The old limbs on the many trees here need to be sawed off. Several packs of bulbs need to be planted. The porch needs a paint job. And the new orchard -- oh, the new orchard! It so needs our attention! It will never survive another winter of deer unless we build shields to protect it!
I add these things to my to do list and wonder if I should put at the bottom of it -- "attend relaxation sessions."
Still later, Ed comes home, listens to my summary of the day and steps in to take charge of my relaxation issues: Tennis. Now!
I am terrible at first, better as we play. It takes me a while to unwind.
On the ride home we wave to Framer Lee. It may be that this is the last of it -- that we may never see her harvesting flowers across the road again.
She waves her hand, pretending to hide from my camera. The flowers, Lee! I shout. It's all about the flowers!
Isis greets us as we pull in with that meow that says -- where have you been?!
Come inside, dear boy, I tell him. It's time to fix dinner. I got some fresh fish at the market. You can have the skin.
He appears happy with the idea. I settle in to cook.
