contemplative

Do most people have strong opinions as to what is the right way to proceed? Or, like me, do they merely try to squeeze by and find a way to hang on, without feeling especially convinced that their course is the preferable one, more favorable than most others?

As I continue work on my writing project, I sometimes step back and wonder how a reader would react to different events described therein. Whether he or she would feel that they would have done things differently. Whether opinions would form as to which course of action is the better one.  For me, there are obvious terribly wrong directions and terribly right ones too, but it seems that most behaviors fall toward neither extreme. They are what they are. People squeezing by, finding a way to make it to the end of the day without completely falling apart in despair. And if in the course of that run they find themselves smiling, well, good for them! In my mind, one mark of a good day is when you look back and find that you have had quite a number of opportunities for a wide grin. The sun was out and you didn't completely mess up. How wonderful is that!


Today, it was easy to smile. Sure, when the rooster crowed, Ed fidgeted slightly and then mumbled something that sounded like "sleep." So I let him rest. But rising with the cheepers isn't necessarily a bad thing. Even if the sunrise is a little muted by a band of clouds on the horizon.







(oreo, waiting for the sun to rise)


Then there is breakfast - so obviously porch material, since we are having another one of those spectacularly beautiful days (last one for a while, so let's really crank it up and enjoy it!).



(his grin is a tiny bit fake so that I'd put away the camera already)


There are, today, periods of writing and there are garden walks...



(toward the porch)





(toward the sheep shed)


...and Ed and I take many soothing breaks on the porch -- to munch on pickles, to sip a cup of coffee, to do a little clothes mending. All very peaceful. Very much in line with the quiet around us. (Perhaps I overstate the quiet: we do live along a rural road that gets its share of car traffic as it leads to a county park and a lake -- a favorite destination for boat people in the summer. But life at the farmette is removed from the road. All important activities fly off the internal courtyard. We try hard to concentrate our senses toward that space and for the most part, the effort pays off.)

In the evening, Ed bikes his Wednesday night bike loop and I'm home making chili, just to use up the rest of the old tomatoes. And as I stir all those beans, spices and tomatoes, I go back to thinking about how difficult it is to make choices when, in most instances, there isn't an obviously correct path, just many different ones, with many different outcomes and consequences.