Attitude counts for so much! Sure, there are people whose lives have been rocked to the core by the pandemic or by other horrific tragedy. I'm not thinking about them at the moment. They can have the worst attitude on the planet as far as I'm concerned. So let's leave out these heartbreaking examples of loss and sacrifice. My mind is on the rest of us who have days with the usual share of ups and downs (and yes, in the last 18 months -- more downs than ups): I'm thinking that so much can be improved with a flip of the attitude switch.
I love Ed for his attitude toward life, toward people, animals, nature. Toward his own day, toward our time together. Acceptance, peace, compassion, good will. None of the pig headed judgments, belligerence, self-pity -- attitudinal traits that make me recoil.
With this in mind, I look out, see that brilliant sunshine, feel the scented air, admire the autumnal resilience in a garden, and especially this garden, and get to work. I have flipped a switch on my attitude toward weeds.
(After breakfast, of course. Beard is gone for now!)
Ed is shredding branches over by the wood pile. Patiently, feeding one heavy limb at a time into the small chipping machine. It is far more difficult and far less pleasant to shred branches than it is to dig up weeds. And really, it doesn't matter if he never gets to the bottom of the huge pile, nor if I never get the last weed out of the flower fields. The day is beautiful, we are tending the land. Joyously...
(the new orchard meadow)
... until it is time for me to pick up Snowdrop at school. Wait, I am that early? I can make a cafe stop!
Now to school, where I get in the car line, take out my book and wait. For her:
Not many photos today. I concentrated on taking care of the girl's finger that got slammed in the car door and so the camera stayed mostly idle. (Nothing that a towel wrap, a bowl of fruit and many chapters of a book couldn't fix!)
One exception:
Gaga, you can take a photo of me playing with the ponies? They are at a fair!
Evening: Out comes the hoodie again. I bring home takeout fish tacos. Ed says it reminds him of our picnics. It's a sign of the seasonal shift to recognize that it's too cold and dark now to think about a picnic. One foot stuck in summer, but the other has solidly crossed over into fall.
