We had a few days of not-typical-for-May weather, that resulted in our some of our lettuces bolting. Grass started to brown, and its growth sped slowed. I was reminded that I am really pleased with our climate here, and faced with the idea that the rainy season might be over with early, I felt dread. Then the cold came back, and I feared for our tomato plants, and the rain came back with it, and I haven’t had to water the gardens in over a week. I did manage to get the lawn mowed yesterday. Sprinkles here and there, but it dried out enough to allow for the lawn mowing with minimal pain. I hate using the mower, and as a result I put it off, and then I’m popping wheelies as I go. Plus, the lawn looks so pretty with butter cups and lawn daisies and not-dandelions.
I hit a year mile marker, in April. It has been a year since I saw my grandfather alive. It hasn’t *quite* been a year since his death. When my black moods descent, I use him as a lever to pull myself out of them. Sometimes it works. “Look at all he saw and faced and experienced, and he loved life and living and found wonder, for most of that time.” I’m sure he had his ups and downs. I’m his granddaughter; I wouldn’t necessarily know about them. Which is proper. It doesn’t always work to get me out of my black moods, but it *does* generally get me moving. Walking has become more than a way for meditation, it has become a way to honor his presence in my life, and a way to honor his memory. Walking generally helps. It may not
lift my mood entirely, but it gets me observing wildlife, and that helps. How can I remain black mooded, when scrub jays are frolicking around and starlings are scolding me and catbirds are dive bombing people too near their nests and the odd heron flies overhead? I generally can’t.
I’m pondering essentials. Things that are in my life that may be clutter, that may be weighing me down, that maybe need to go or re-evaluated. I’m thinking a lot, thanks to the comic heroes discourse, about writing as a spiritual practice, and what I could par down to make more time for writing. The knee-jerk response is always, “FB is an evil time suck!” but in reality, FB is a useful tool that helps me stay in contact with friends and family who are on different time zones. My writing computer has decided it doesn’t really care for FB, so that will cut down on the temptation to “just go peek.” I return here time and again — I stop paying attention, and these little things start adding up.
I keep toying with picking fights with Poseidon, right now. Useless, really — He never seems to fight back. I’m pleased that the typical across the board apathy that used to come about during these black moods no longer seem to. I retreat when I’m in them, and I distract myself with knitting or reading, and when they pass, there’s a lot less damage control to run. It’s good.
And it’s raining.