One Day
Sore muscles and a satisfied mind seem to be the combination. Hauled off some old cedar, wrestled around some big bags of dirt to fill a hole as I prepped my new garden area yesterday, then pulled out the line trimmer to tidy things up. This morning, if the wind is low, I’ll spray down a little corn gluten then start laying weed barrier. I’ll take my time. There’s no rush. The latter is a contrast for me. Previously, when I worked, my time windows were short, and I had to get things done. Now. These days, the walls go up slow.
In softer, gentler work, I also installed new solar lights for the stairs to the pool deck. It’s the sort of work that requires patience and a tiny eye for detail because you have to put in the screws, so they line up with the holes on the back of the lights and I’ve never been good at that until yesterday. Everything went in seamlessly and when I came back from a nighttime jaunt yesterday, there were the lights, shining bright. Again, satisfied.
All that work must be why I slept so late this morning, and I am happy, happy to be free of that gelatinous mind set I had Wednesday. I may not feel all that confident about the future, and I can certainly do nothing about the past, but today feels pretty good which may contain some sort of lesson. It’s not enough to wish I had a new garden. I actually have to plant one, then tend it. Every day. Until one day, it’s a thing of beauty.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale