I was nine on October 16 1962. Oh, do I remember it! I was in New York, my father was then the Polish Rep to the United Nations. It was the start of the Cuban Missile Crisis and we were coming awfully close to a nuclear war. The TV was switched on the minute my father came home from work and it stayed on for a long time. I was terrified. I remember shaking and asking my father if this war would really happen. Shhh, he said, quiet now. But, but why would the leaders of our countries want to destroy our planet? They have children, don't they? My father stopped listening to the news and smiled at me. For a fleeting second, he smiled his closed-mouth grin and said -- yes, they have children.
As I listen to the surreal dismantling of our country's rule of law, to news of the destruction of towns, cities, families, lives in the Ukraine, to the indifference in the leadership to our collective health, be it before a pandemic, or the seasonal flu, or cancer, or Alzheimers, or ebola, or malaria, or even measles, to the bulldozing of efforts to slow down climate change, I have to ask again, at age 71 now -- don't these people have children and grandchildren? Is this the world they want to leave behind for them? Because honestly, I dont think Mars is in the running to take them in right now.
And now we are onto March 3rd.
This date in our northern hemisphere calendar seems to always make me feel stale... Like a loaf of bread that's seen better days -- dried out, maybe a bit moldy.
I think it's because in the winter season leading up to it, I coasted in a winter fog. Everything I did or did not do had a good excuse. Projects stalled, movement -- hit or miss, money spent without a thought to frugality, foods eaten recklessly, resolutions -- a thing of another era. All because of the cold days, and salty roads, and short daylight hours, and brown landscapes. Like this one:
And then comes March 3rd, and I take stock and I cringe. What have I done with myself, my days, my goals and aspirations??
Spring is around the bend. Fresh, invigorating, beautiful, energizing spring. And here I am, feeling stale. Swamped by horrible news stories, endless tax forms, spread sheets of expenses going forward, while the garden still wears its winter clothes which honestly look like rags right now. It's a post-winter mess out there!
That's March 3rd for you.
But it is an unusually warm day. And thus a good day to begin to turn things around.
After breakfast.
And after I do my Wisconsin taxes (which put me in a foul mood because they did not generate a refund this year and I'm sure it's because I made some accounting error but oh well, I'm not redoing them in search of $54).
In the early afternoon, I step outside. (No kids today -- there's a bug in their home making the rounds.) Initially I'm thinking I'll clear maybe one flower field. (I have 12 of them, some small, but some very big, like for instance the Big Bed!)
And I work on it.
And work on it.
Until the sun has long set.
I didn't do a great job, but it's adequate. And I cut back spent flowers not in one or two, but in ten out of the twelve flower fields.
Ed said -- don't work too hard on the first day of yard work, but it was too late. I did work very very hard and yes, it was too much, but I'm alive and well so there you have it!
I will surely be sore tomorrow.
with love...
