Friday, May 14, 2010

Goodbye Garden Warrior, Hello Contemplation

I love the mornings and this morning is particularly fine. I've said it before, working on deadline all the time can be so exhausting, but the complete relief that comes at the end when the project is done is so satisfying. I am close to completion on the next issue of the little visitors guide, goSmithsonian, at work.

And so is the garden in a state of near completion. When I step into it now, after so many years, I no longer see ungardened spaces that I want to conquer. The warrior gardener in me is waning. Instead, the contemplative gardener is emerging. I go there now and find it a place for deep breaths, for letting my shoulders sag just a little, for sitting, for listening. In my chair, I've watched a few shows take place, little dramas of nature. There's a cardinal, a male, who comes to the bird bath and he doesn't like the mosquito disk that I put in the water to keep the bugs at bay. With his beak, he flips it out on the ground. His mate hangs out in the rhodedendrum and sounds a cheery hello. The catbird, meanwhile, squawks at some unknown offense. And a tiny no-see-em tickles the back of my leg.

The trouble with loving mornings is the lack of sleep that eventually takes hold. I'm not a napper. I've never liked sleeping in the day. It makes me feel sick and groggy when I finally emerge from the coma that I descend into if I ever I let myself sleep during the day. But recently, in my chair, I took a tiny nap. It was the kind of nap that nappers brag about. "I shut my eyes for 30 minutes and I feel so refreshed," they say so smugly. And so with my magazines and my books, my journal and my kindle, piled up around me, I let myself drift off.

Today, my daughter is home from college. I won't be going to work. I have a few medical errands to tend to in the morning and then it is time to putter. The Putterer

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