Sunday

Do you keep a life's list of something? So many people I know do just that. My mother famously kept a list of books she had read. She began at age 30 (when I was born, leading me to wonder however did she have the time to read then, but of course, I was left with my grandmother a couple of months after my birth). The list thus spanned 70 years of her life. Some people I know keep lists of birds seen. I have a relatively new fascination with bird species and I do get excited when I hear a new sound, identifying a newcomer to farmette lands, but keeping a list of random birds spotted elsewhere seems to be a whole 'nother level of birding that I haven't climbed to. Then there are friends (in Poland) who count countries visited in their lifetime. (You could accuse me of a form of this as well -- I do have links to countries visited in the time of blogging, though I'd argue that this is more of a reference tool for future trips and a catalogue of pictures I may want to look at when I'm ancient and cannot travel anymore.) 

The thing is, in counting, you focus on numbers. The larger the count, the better you feel. (Of course, you count only things you're proud of. You wouldn't tally the minutes spent flipping through pages on your tablet, or the number of TV shows you watched as a kid.) 

I was thinking today that maybe I should speak out in favor of moderation. Count, to make sure you're not under-observing (birds), or staying too close to home (travel), or keeping to the couch for too long (steps). But maybe we should actively work to temper our obsession with more. Amy Tan's study of just backyard birds, a writer's description of a year spent in just one country, and perhaps spending time just thinking about books you've read (though I'm not sure on this last one) -- wouldn't that give you a more discriminating, nuanced view of what's out there?

When I snap a photo during my morning walk (for example -- today)...

... I have this dilemma: show closeups of spectacular flowers? No, that's wrong! You can find plenty of photos of spectacular flowers up and down and all around the internet and in books. What I want to show is a moment in time, here at the farmette. So I tend to favor larger, some would say "postcard type" presentations. But going for the entirety diminishes small pockets of beauty. Isn't the answer then to go for something in the middle?

(first tulip bloom)

 

Amy Tan (in her Bird Chronicles) writes about intentional curiosity -- a term she took from her bird watching forays, during which she learned to follow the questioning eyes of a young person, a child really. I think counting (or postcard photography) has its place in our lives, but asking questions and observing a smaller range of possibilities is, to me at least, a finer ambition. (Admittedly, Amy Tan does count, or at least list all the birds she chronicled over a period of five years, though as I said, she limits it to her back yard. Well she might! She has a virtual bird-palooza going on right outside her windows.)

Breakfast. I'm in this photo. Not sure why I went that route, but there you have it.

I wait for the sun to come out. I should do a heck of a lot of weeding, but after lifting Sandpiper on Friday and pulling out creeping charlie on Saturday, my back is starting to remind me that I'm not that nimble anymore, so I limit myself. Well, I try to limit myself!

Eventually I turn toward dinner prep. It's Sunday and we are back to our scheduled family dinners, and this time we are all there. And since the sun is going strong and the temps are modestly warm this evening (near 68F/20C), I take it outside. It is in fact our first porch meal of the year!

Eating dinner on the porch fires up a curiosity in the kids -- to explore, to see if it really is summer weather already, and always it gets them to the coiled up hose. Can we play with it? -- is a constant. You'd think one hose, with no fancy attachments or sprinklers would get boring. It never does. 

Initially I tell them to stay dry.

But eventually, we just let them shed their shirts and play freely. That first run of the season through a hose is always exhilarating! Lots of squeals and laughter. And for us -- the satisfaction of watching them cavort without worry, in the way that kids can do so well. May they remain that playful for a long long time!

with love...