Yesterday was not the day to pick roses or the lovely black-eyed susans that were blooming. I did not feel the least bit inclined to sit in the shade either. I found out in the first part of the day when I was hanging sheets on the line, that the heat was already hateful. I glanced at the garden and hurried back to the house . Today was the day for housekeeping, I thought.
Somehow, I got on a mission to declutter-again. The older I get, the more I realize the folly of using the home as a closet. I think back to possessions I have had over the years. I think of the many things that I paid good money for and I don’t even know where they are now, and don’t even care! I have never been a trendy person. I am not enticed by “popular at the moment” things. Still, I have ended up having more than I needed at times.
I collected a box of things to give to a local church for their annual yard sale. I read some poetry by Keats and then I decided to paint. I have not done so all summer, so my roses ended up looking like peonies. Painting is like writing. The picture, like a story unfolds like it has a life all its’ own. I often feel like I had very little to do with either effort at the conclusion .. . but I really did want to paint roses this day.
The thought of cooking supper did not cheer me as it usually does-but I did any way with more of the “food bought by the road” from my trip home with Jo Dee and Joehn. I went out after supper and stayed a very few minutes as the air was hot and heavy as sin. I sat down to write and realised the battery needed charging on the computer. I plugged it in-and the whole world went dark and silent. I looked out and could not see “Miss Susie’s light either so I knew the power was out all around me. All of my tidying up came in handy as I remembered that I had put a candle on the “morning table”. I sat , hopefully thinking it would come back on in moments. The house got hot quickly, so feeling like Florence Nightingale, I walked to the back door with the candle, looking for fresh air. There were plenty of stars but little light. I regretted not picking sticks up earlier. I stood there admiring the stars and a breeze stirred up! It was actually cool and very constant. I heard Christian playing his guitar and found him on the front porch. I sat with him and listened to his magic. The next thing I knew, I was stumbling through the house to get my violin. We played for a long while on the porch with the cool wind blowing. It was pitch dark and I had to “get my bearings” straight on the violin. It was quite a good practice for me, I thought, and found myself enjoying it. Ever so often we would stop and talk. Christian is my youngest son. He is a young man now, and I knew to tuck this memory in my heart, for safe keeping. I was just as disappointed when the lights came back on, as I was when they went out. We played a while longer. It was midnight when we finally came in.
Sometimes, the best part of the day takes its’ own sweet time showing up. Keats wrote “A thing of beauty is a joy forever”. I read that today and at midnight, I found it to be every bit as true as it sounds-right there on the front porch of the rabbit patch , singing a song at midnight while a cool breeze was blowing.