To plant new flower fields, to bring dogs into your life, to load up on books to read, so that the proverbial stack by your bed reaches the ceiling, to break off squares of chocolate in the evening, to plan ocean crossings -- you have to know how to stop. And this is a skill that I do not have.
It's not merely a question of preserving retirement resources: the library is free and will load up on a tablet effortlessly. Plants divided or transplanted from the farmette cost me nothing. And I can afford chocolate bars. The Lindt ones I tend to favor these days (dark, with sea salt) wont empty out my savings. (I will not comment on dogs. They don't have to be pricey, but sometimes they become that through no fault of theirs or yours.) So, forget for a minute about cost. It's a question of learning to be satisfied with good rather than better yet. Why queue up all those books, why expand flower fields (on paper so far) every few days, why look at photos of dogs available for adoption, when everything is so good now, in smaller amounts? (On the dog issue -- I'm not actually getting a second one. Millie is satisfied with a human centered existence and I see no benefit in adding more expense and work, even though the available pups are so adorable!)
I think I've always aimed higher than I could reach. Packed more than the suitcase could hold. Filled a glass to overflowing. And I've reaped the benefits of this: the flower fields at the farmette were frustrating (too many weeds, too much shade, lots of effort) but they turned out to be really spectacular in mid-summer. I loved each and every dog that lived with me this year. And I think I had the best reading spell in a long time, in part because I had so much good stuff to choose from. And travel sustained me, always. There are a few trips that I think added not much to my growth, but most have have enriched me tremendously.
So now, as I plan out Steffi's garden, I find it hard to stop. I've expanded my growing horizons there again and again, so that the person that's working with me (in terms of sod removal and dirt replacement) is getting really tired of my texts asking for just a bit more. (She'll be getting another one today.)
The morning is still cool, but not for long. Breakfast in a fleece, the rest of the day? Short sleeves and shorts.
Millie is playful. Super charged with the zoomies, When she tires, I brush her. She is so used to this routine and she cooperates. Until she tires of being docile. And still, she is small -- I can flip her, hold her, position her in a good way. I wonder how I would do this were she a full grown doodle instead of a mini...
(there, all brushed)
We go for a walk over to Steffi's House. I want to eyeball the land and see if the plants I have (70 by now) match the space for them. And on our walk to it, I meet some more neighbors. Lovely people who express relief that the house is inhabited because they surely haven't seen anyone there. I have heard that story before!
I study the back-of-the-house patches of grass. Truly, I'd like to remove them all. I like grass in the enclosed area where Millie can play and I can sit and read my stacks of books, but the rest of it? Worthless. And I am such an incompetent grass grower anyway! I've fertilized it, reseeded it and still it looks pretty darn awful. I have no interest in learning about it, nor in making it look like astroturf (densely green), but honestly, couldn't it look less... starved for care? I measure off more strips out back that I could transform into flower fields...
In the early afternoon, Millie rests in her crate and Ed and I do one of my very favorite outings: by bike, over the mile long bridge that cuts across the Yahara as it flows into Lake Waubesa, then to the town of McFarland, where we pause for a snack at Grace Cafe.
It is, finally, that perfect day -- sunshine, warmth, late May loveliness everywhere you look. Happiness is that ride, with Ed for company. The whole thing doesn't take long -- maybe 40 minutes each way -- and therein lies the beauty: it's perfect. It cannot be improved upon. I want to add nothing to it! You see? I can be satiated.
At home, Millie and I have some training to do. I work on commands, but also on getting her to break the habit of playing with treats. I can't believe I have to make my dog love snatching up rewards, but they're a real training assist. So we practice. And she's willing. She must be undergoing a growth spurt, because her attitude toward food is improving. Or maybe it's the elimination of kibble? She doesn't explain her behavior so I can't tell.
(dream of Paris?)
Evening quiet. So much to look forward to in the coming month! I return to my book with a smile. And not because it is funny material. It's just that kind of an evening.
with so much love...
