October Saturday

I began the work of designing a holiday card today. Usually this is a joyous event. I study art, I think about love. This year, however, poses unique challenges. First of all, for some people on my list a message of joy would be an affront. There was not a whole lot of joy in their 2024. Meager scraps of it could well be sucked dry if the outcome of the election doesn't go their way. Secondly, I am often inspired by woodland themes. Animals figure prominently on many of my past cards. This year, deer have decimated our peach orchard, just this past week, striping three year old peach trees of bark and life support. Should I included woodland deer on a card? Ed is feeling grumpy about their visits to farmette lands. Yesterday I heard him compare the deer to mice. A stunning putdown. Animal lover that he is, Ed is not a fan of mice.

In general, playing with themes of unity and love seems especially hard now. I look at the headline in the Economist today -- Why Passive Aggression Took Over the World -- and I think: am I to ignore the cruelty that I hear coming out of the mouths of young and old? Are we all to turn a blind eye to the rampant hurt that's freely bestowed by some onto others? 

Meanwhile, our neighbor (distant, to be sure) is practicing with his semiautomatic rifle, so I sort through cards with messages of peace, at the same time that I hear the horrible sounds of pop pop pop somewhere across the road. 

Nonetheless, it's getting to be the end of October. My "discount deadline" has long passed. My November is busy. I tally forth.

The day itself is stunningly beautiful: warm, sunny. And dry. Ed does the animals this morning. I start in on breakfast. Let's see... fruit and what... Mmmm, would be nice to pick up some Kuign Amann... Off to the bakery!

So yes, we indulge in richness for breakfast once again this weekend, but I promise myself that this is not a new normal. That the day of oatmeal in the morning will return. Soon.

I work on bulbs today. The weather is both perfect and impossible for it. Beautiful sunshine, impossibly dry soil. Still, at the end of the day, I have only 26 bulbs left, all crocuses and snowdrops, requiring very shallow digging.

What's been missing in my days? Movement. Pneumonia does that to you: it slows you down. So that when Ed suggests a bike ride I don't hesitate. It may well be our only real look at local fall colors!

(he does pull up ahead; I dont want to overdo it...)

In the evening, the young family was to be here for Sunday dinner. We chose this day for it because tomorrow has to be clear of all scheduling. I'll tell you more about that when the time comes. For now I start in on dinner, only to get the call that a string of unfortunate circumstances confounded everyone's schedule for tonight. So it's just going to be me 'n Ed after all. With reheated soup. Contentedly, on the couch.

 

And let's please remember that for all the gripes we have stored in our souls, we still have life. And a chance to live it well. Generously. With acceptance and love...