My gifted for you article comes today again from the NYTimes. It's about America's glorification of working long hours. You can read it here. There are few articles in the paper these days that make me smile, but this one, and the (Readers Pick) comments that follow did make me at least pop a lopsided grin. Not because it provided a humorous counter to the chaotic news of the day, but because it described something that I'd long thought was absurd -- the bragging that I've so often come across on this side of the ocean about how long and how hard someone, a successful someone, will have worked that day and every day. Even though they didn't have to put in all those countless extra hours. I'd always wanted to say -- okay, do it if it brings you pleasure. But if you're asking me if I admire your life's choices, I'm going to have to say no, not really. [Caveat: I'm not talking about people who are forced to work overtime or two jobs to make ends meet. I'm talking about those who have a choice and who choose grueling hours only to then boast about it.]
I'm not denigrating hard work. But I do wonder why we continue to admire those who claim it's a mark of success to make big money working long hours, often under great stress and with not much pleasure. That feels skewed in the wrong direction. Shouldn't we hope to come to a point in our lives when we can work less and find joy in all that this planet has to offer?
I'm not lazy. And neither is Ed - though he claims he is! But we love to do what we love to do. Working daily on a blog, or all spring and summer out in the flower fields -- this is deeply satisfying work. I like what it brings me -- peace, joy, a calmness that otherwise can be elusive. The days I find to be most frustrating are ones that are too full, where I have no time to take long pauses. Those are failed days for me and it has always been that way.
In younger years, I longed for more time with my kids. With friends. Time for travel. For books read in a coffee shop. For visits to a greenhouse to pick up seedlings for the garden. For long forest walks. These days I need those more than ever! In my view, Americans have never been given the opportunity to lead a balanced life. Short, unpaid vacations mean that you ration your leisure hours. Is this what we want going forward? There is an oft repeated saying that I remember coming across when I was still very young -- something like "No one has ever said on their death bed 'I wish I'd spent more time in the office'." I remember seeing it and rolling my eyes -- as in "well duh...!"
Go ahead, Mr. Billionaire. Work 120 hours per week if you want to. But don't think for a minute you're superior because of it. If you weren't such a destructive, mean bully, I'd feel sorry for you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few birds outside I want to listen to. (Today: bluejays, cardinals, sparrows.)
Another gloriously spring-like day. A few days ago Ed and I were skiing. Today, there's not a speck of snow left on the ground.
Another leisurely breakfast.
During my morning walk to feed the animals, I noticed how many spent plants were still standing in the flower beds. These will have to be cleared. Typically, I do a major yard clean up in early April, but this year, I'll be away for a chunk of that time. I should get to work now!
And yet -- I'm not ready for it. February isn't a gardening month for us here in Wisconsin (unless you have a greenhouse). My drive to stay out doors hasn't surfaced yet. I'm waiting for March!
(My over-wintered plants are perking up on the window sill; by December, I thought I had lost the bougainvillea and the rosemary. But both are now finally generating new growth and the bougainvillea is starting to even bloom again)
The great weather (a little cooler today, but still warm for February, and still partly cloudy) is a bit of a problem for the planned ski lesson for Snowdrop. Will there even be snow at our local ski area?
I pick her up after school and we head out.
A week ago the fields and forests were completely covered with snow. Today -- not a speck to be found anywhere.
Except at the ski area! Their snow base is solid enough to withstand this warmup, though they are switching to a spring schedule next week and if I'm reading the weather correctly, they're not likely to last the whole week. But today, things are looking okay!
I signed Snowdrop up for one more ski lesson and for the first time, her instructor is a woman - Maddie. [I ask her later to rank them and she doesn't hesitate: Matthieu is still at the top, but Maddie comes next.]
As I send her off for her lesson, she tells me -- you should ski! You know you want to!
Should I? I'd brought my book to read in their warm lounge. The snow is slushy. I'm wearing sweat pants and light gloves. And it's such a bother. We have a very short amount of time.
And yet...
The hills are nearly empty. The equipment is right here, the sun is out... and they have senior rates!
I quickly get boots, skis and a helmet.
I tell myself I'll just play around on the magic carpet slopes. "Practice my technique." Snowdrop waves and grins as we ride up and ski down, often passing each other.
But I push myself to at least do a couple of runs from the top of the chairlift.
It's okay, but the intermediate run feels icy and I dont enjoy it. I go back to the gentler slopes, determined just to have fun. To feel that confidence again. To love the slowness of the descent.
And I do. And when the girl's lesson is over, I suggest we ski for a short while together, just the two of us. And she is delighted.
I never know if this will be my last time on skis, but I have to say, if it was my last time -- it was a remarkable and memorable one.
We drive home in high spirits.
(I pause to photograph a setting sun, but Snowdrop points me to the opposite side of the road -- where the trees and fields pick up the red glow of the last rays. It's beautiful!0
And at home I cook a big pot of chili. A deeply satisfying dish for a deeply satisfying day.
with love...
