Just in from the garden. I sat on the bench and let the slanting sun warm my face while I sipped my coffee. Most of the garden has alredy faded or in the process.
We brought the lemon tree in a couple of weeks ago. I love how the morning sun on the leaves makes the green in the room so much brighter.
That’s G’s latest quilting effort on the chair. It’s really amazing. I’ll post more pictures later. But back to the yard. There are still a couple of things around that insist on a last hurrah. There’s a calendula under the pergola that thinks it’s still midsummer:
And the hollyhock under the apple tree decided to offer up one last, perfect shout:
Yesterday, we went to the memorial service for a friend’s partner. I’ve known Ed for years, but hadn’t really been in touch with him for a long time, other than to see him out and about now and then. I confess I didn’t know that he had found the love of his life. He and Gus were planning a trip to New York to get married when Gus’ previously treated lymphoma came back with a vengeance and he died in a week. He was 40.
Most of the Pueblo “community” was at the service. Ed is well known and loved, and Gus touched many people during his relatively short time in town. I was able to reconnect with two good friends, Jeff and David, who I’ve been missing for a while. We all agreed we wished it had been under much better circumstances. Why does it always take something serious to happen close at hand to make you stop and count your blessings? That’s what this morning in the garden was. Everything has its season, but sometimes it feels like they are way too short. G and I didn’t stay for the dinner/reception afterwards (hadn’t known about it), but we chatted with Ed for a bit and made sure he had our card. I told him to please call us after everything had settled because that’s when the tough stuff happens. You can keep going through the flurry of activity around making arrangements and getting a memorial service together and handling family, etc., but then, the quiet happens, and what do you do then? My heart goes out to him.
We’ve talked about that in the last couple of months. Given different circumstances with the grandkids, we made some changes to our wills. We were in agreement about it, but still it sparked some–shall we say “discussions”. While we agree on a lot, G worries so much about what would happen after she’s gone. I don’t. I simply don’t. I will be gone and it won’t be my problem. I feel like I’ve made the best arrangements possible to make things very simple to handle. After that, everyone is on their own. Does that make me sound cold? I don’t know. I just know that when people die THEIR troubles are over. Those who remain go on however they can. But they don’t get any help from the departed other than inspiration and memories. Therefore, I can’t spend valuable time worrying about whether or not people will be all right without me. They will or they won’t. It’s entirely up to them.
G spends so much time worrying about how I would take care of the house, that I’d want to sell it, that I couldn’t deal with everything that “had to be done” to take care of it, get it ready for winter, etc., etc. I finally had to come down on her, hard. Just because I didn’t spend 12 hours a day running around “getting ready for winter” didn’t mean I didn’t care about the house. I told her I didn’t appreciate her assumptions about my lack of ability or caring. That she really had no idea what I could or couldn’t do because she already jumped up and did everything while I was working, so how could she know? It always bugs me when people assume they know what I’ll do or how I’ll react. They don’t. They can’t, because half the time I don’t even know myself. I don’t spend a lot of time anymore on thinking or focusing on what might or might not be. When/if something happens, I’ll handle it. That’s what I know. How doesn’t matter, just that I know I will. How do I know this? Because I always have.
Anyway, I didn’t mean to run off on that tangent, but once again, these events bring up thoughts like that. They remind us that we’re all living on borrowed time. It’s one of the reasons I refuse to become so invested in this awful political war that everyone seems to be so gleefully fighting. It isn’t that I don’t care, it’s simply that beyond voting, I really have no control over any of it. It’s not something that engages me at all. Some people would read that and be appalled. Too bad. Everyone is engaged by different things. I would rather stay close in Pueblo and work with people here to improve the city, work with local farmers, grow my garden, put up food. That engages me. The rest of this crap, I just tune it out. I honestly don’t feel there’ll be much difference regardless of who’s on the point of the pyramid. I’m happy on the bottom. There’s more room to breathe.
Death and politics. Both subjects can spark heated debate and discussion and no one really has control over either. People are political animals, I suppose. I often wonder what might happen in the world if we put the energy that we spend on arguing over who’s right in government into really doing something close at hand. What if we all just turned away from the national scene and spent our time getting to know the neighbors and how we could help each other instead of arguing about crap? Man, that might actually make a difference.
But, in the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy the fall weather here. I’m going to make moussaka today using part of that recipe and part of another one from my favorite Greek cookbook. Also, I won’t be using lamb, but a combination of ground beef and pork. G’s going to the gym. I should, but it’s my one full day off (I worked 4 hours yesterday) so I’m going to cook and then when she gets back, I’ll rototill the garden by the street and we’ll plant the seeds for our meadow next year.
Cooking and planting. That’s the best way I know for dealing with death and politics.