Wet Summer

After  a few days of gloomy wet weather I took a soggy (the ground was squishy) walk to the pond (now full up to the moss).  Nothing has changed that I could see.  As I pondered at the pond, watching ripples, I wondered if all ripples are in the shape of a circle?  I couldn't make any other shape, no matter what I tossed into the water.  Hmmmm...is there a mathematical reason?  Perhaps, but why bother with math when you can just enjoy the ripples.   Then I took pictures and slogged my way back.  I've always wanted to post the tombstones in the backyard for all to see and of course, a new picture of the house.

Today I learned that it is not wise to wash dishes when you are wearing a poncho.  I've also learned that I waste a lot of food mainly in left-over bites.  One person can make a lot of trash in a few weeks.  Everything is bagged, wrapped or surrounded with cardboard.  It all adds up to 2 bags full.  I've also learned that my quiet place on the hill is not so quiet anymore.  Across the street, they pile up dirt, move it around, and constantly back up with their beeping machines.  It can become annoying if you stop and listen to it.  The beeping joins in with the humming of the old refrigerator and the spin cycle of the washing machine.  A virtual symphony of sounds.  I personally prefer the harsh caws of the crows and the bluejays.  I have also learned that keeping a garden for just 7 or 8 weeks a year is a battle against weeds and the weeds are winning.  The peonies have blossomed and they are gorgeous. Makes the fighting the weeds worth it, but really, am I that crazy to think that a part time garden is a good thing.  The trouble is that when I look at the garden, I see a manicured english cottage garden without the weeds: I don't dwell in reality here.  I keep thinking someday!!  I should get a tattoo that says SOMEDAY on my left wrist because that's what I always think when I think I should do something that is good for me and it takes effort,   Except for writing.

Tuesday June 26 Quick Write

As I walked by my bedroom window, a small movement caught my eye.  It was a small spider that had captured a bee in its web. She nimbly moved around the bee spinning unseen threads, wrapping the bee, and anchoring her web. She would quickly spin with her back legs, carefully placing the strands, and she would cut the strands moving the bee closer to where she would store it.  She danced around the bee in a strange dance, tugging, turning, and moving the bee. While I watched, the spider managed to tuck the bee into the corner of the sash, out of the wind.   She worked quickly as if time was important to her.  Such a small animal with such strength. I will continue to watch the spider during the weeks that I stay here; a small companion outside my bedroom window to keep me company.
  

Follow up: The bee carcass is completely gone as is the spider.  I wonder where it went and why it left.  The last rainstorm washed out what remained of the web.  Everything changes

Writer's Notebook

Today is the first day of TeachersWrite! and we are writing about Writer's Notebooks.  This is something that I have kept for about 6 years.  I started journaling when my first grandson was stillborn. I didn't know how to grieve for this life that I had never seen, touched or felt.  It was just an abstract concept that hurt so deep in my soul.  I knew my son and his wife were hurting  and I didn't want to add to that sorrow so I started writing about it.  Just putting down my feelings.  Soon I was drawing and finding comforting poems to add to the pages.  As I wrote, I found affection for George Everett and could honor him with thoughts.  I kept on writing and took this habit into my  classroom and taught the students how to keep a "DayBook".   That's what I like to call it- a Day Book.   I have begun keeping a zentangle notebook, an inchie notebook and a daily diary in which I write down the Daily Rock from Patti Digh and the Daily Be from Facebook.  I live in my head, so writing is something I must do to unravel the tangle of thoughts.  I really hope that someday I can write something that will live on.  I believe that that's how we live forever: through our written words.