When it drizzles, you slow down and reflect more on what is before you. You may even go the full range and return to thinking about the details that you've come to regard as part of a new normal. We adapt quickly to change and this helps us cope with unusual and sometimes harrowing events. I remember accepting the reality of living under so called communism in postwar Poland. (My book, Like a Swallow addresses this.) Our authoritarian regime's excesses weren't part of the daily conversation for most of us. Except for the moments (maybe on a rainy day?) when they were.
This normalization of both awful and joyous transformations may have their positives (do you really want to bounce around in your thoughts between peaks and valleys all the time?), but I recognize the downsides of our tendency to moderate and normalize: how then do you revel and rejoice in the beauty of a day that is otherwise ordinary? And should you really accept as near normal the crazy chaos that you see all around you as your country descends into something you could not have imagined even one year ago? An article in today's NYTimes warns us of the dangers of doing this. (I gifted it for you here.)
And equally important is that flip side of your emotional range -- the dulling of your sense of joy and hope. So for balance, may I suggest a listen to an interview done by Andy Borowitz of Jane Goodall. (Here's the link, though I can't gift it for you -- you have to subscribe to Andy to listen to it. Hey, he's pretty funny so I recommend Andy for those who want to lighten up their day, despite everything!) Goodall is 91 now and her message of hope is... joyful. If you asked me what senior person is absolutely heroic in my eyes, a role model for sure, I would point my finger right at her lovely countenance.
So I get up in the morning, I throw a jacket over my head against the rain and I take extra care -- to admire the flower fields...
(without warm sunny days, the peonies are slow to open up)
And to think about the events of the week -- the good, the not so good. The discouraging and the hopeful.
We have breakfast in the kitchen. The light rain cooled off the temps, so the porch is for another day.
Ed is trying to decide what to do with the butchered maple (the one a farming truck massacred yesterday afternoon). Our town's tree people come out to give advice. And in the end, Ed takes on the project of cleaning up "the wound" himself. Me, I'm concerned about the general health of the tree. So many limbs have been cut off because of their proximity to the power lines that the overall structure of the maple is definitely not great. Can it survive this latest attack? The tree people think that it can. It's got another maybe 15 years of life left -- the specialist tells us. Ed is thrilled. That's fantastic! It will outlive us!
And the drizzle continues and I stay mostly indoors.
Despite the weather, Wednesday is ice cream day for the kids and so after school our first stop is at the Chocolate Shoppe.
(he's trying, unsuccessfully, to convince us that he is feeling grumpy this afternoon)
How did this routine get started? I can't even remember. No matter. They have one more Wednesday of school after today. We can handle another ice cream Wednesday before the year is out.
[Here's a fun fact: did you know May 28th is Whooping Crane Day? We did not see any whooping cranes, but on our way home after the ice cream, we came across this familiar family, hanging out just steps from the last sighting!]
The evening is drizzly enough for Ed to cancel his bike ride, but not wet enough to give the gardens a satisfactory soak. I have this feeling that we'll come out on the dry side of the equation this summer. But of course, don't ask me to predict anything with any confidence! I stick with the idea that in your flower fields, like in life, you can only anticipate what's immediately before you. For example, I can tell you that tonight, Ed and I will slink over to the couch and have a good chuckle over something on TV. I'm sure of it! Even as I have no idea how we'll take on tomorrow.
with love...
