Gardening in the Rain

After breakfast and clean up and board games and puzzles, the kids chimed in the inevitable:

"Mom, I want to go outside."
"OK, go put your shoes on."

It was chilly and gray. I wore an extra layer, and was glad I did when the rain really started falling.

"Kids, come on, it's raining. Time to go inside," I said that more to myself than to them. The boys were having so much fun, just doing what they do outside, only a bit more slowly in the rain. It didn't seem to bother them, so I ran inside to grab the camera. I took some pictures underneath my extra jacket, and then set out to enjoy the day as any other.

Of course the sun and warmth are wonderful; so too is the quiet stillness of the gray and cold of early spring. Both are immanent, and enjoyable in their own regards. I aim to appreciate life as it presents itself. I can lean into most challenges, questions or conflicts, and just be present. I can listen deeply, and be patient with myself to respond.

Warm weather one day, then cooler with a bit of fog, then windy and cold...how is it that March gets away with this every year? I can appreciate the novelty. Everyday there is something new.

Sour news from last week: A good friend's student died, at home, from a sudden accident. He was eleven, the same age as our daughter. The unpublished cause of death was self-asphyxiation. What realms these young people are exploring through oxygen deprivation, I am certain can be taught to them with much safer methods. The mind and imagination are limitless, though our culture does not have a tradition of tapping into its infinite potential. For our American youth, it has not yet been offered as a brand, lifestyle choice or identity.

It shakes a parent in a certain way, this idea that life is so close to death. Death itself is not wrong, or right. It seems like a matter of appropriateness. Explore other realms in a safe and loving way, in a way that does no harm. As a parent, it reminds me to help my kids access new and exciting ways of experiencing the world.

Along a lighter note, the Meyer lemon tree is nearing bloom. There is one final lemon (still green) from last year's growing cycle hanging on the tree. The south-western winter sunlight keeps it happy. The garden beds which were prepared during the last warm days of the autumn are ready to plant. Today I set in some sweet pea seeds along the fence. Snow peas are germinating on top of the fridge. Next week: radish and spinach.

The subway in Warsaw

The Black Maria Film and Video Festival will be making it's annual stop in my hometown of Newark, Delaware, next Tuesday afternoon. I am making sure I'll be there this year.

Feeling slightly bogged down by an ever growing list of 'things to do', I started compiling a different sort of list. It skims the surface of the things I'd like to do in life. I can add as many things as I'd like, and there is no pressure whatsoever to accomplish any of them. Just imagining the possibilities makes them real.


To Do:

learn two new tricks with my jump rope this winter
learn how to double dutch this summer
hover alongside of a mesa in a wing suit
set up a bungee cord in the backyard to practice aerial dancing
test out the latest gravity-defying boots
enjoy ski biking and snow kiting in Iceland
weave a series of 4 walls out of wool
carve a set of chess pieces
build structures out of stone
live in an outdoor shelter for a season
hunt for food with a bow and arrow
map out an audio atlas of indigenous drum rhythms
sleep deeply on a regular basis

I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so,
In whining poetry.
-John Donne

A friend and I were talking at work the other day. It was gray and bleary outside, and we were trying to uplift the mood of the afternoon. Our musings went something like this:

"I would be the first warm day in May---no, the first warm night in May---no, even better, the first warm twilight in May...""

My friend replied, "I would be a sunlit day in autumn when the leaves are in full color, and the trees are just holding onto them---and the local school burns down---an electrical fire in the middle of the night, of course no one is harmed---and everyone gets to stay home from school..."

"If I could be any memory, I would be the summer I lived in France when I was sixteen---riding my bike, wearing my favorite wool sweater, living off of chocolate and bread..."

We stood there marveling within the world of thoughts and words. Language can be such a subtle form of time travel. What a gift it is, being human.

For now, I am content to live life in a way that will yield many wonderful thoughts and adventures to access for future reverie. Pictured above is one such example. Our lovely family went to the home of another lovely family, to share food and conversation on a cold winter night. The hours passed by all too quickly; one by one the children either fell asleep on the couch, or broke out into fits of laughter or tears. Good times abound and await.

This winter has been absolutely wonderful. The gentle snowfalls have supplied a beauty to the surroundings. For a couple of days, there was a slick surface of icy snow on which to sled. There's nothing like playing out of doors in the brisk cold on a sunny day.

The middle of the winter has passed. And still, who doesn't feel like sleeping in? Sleep is a gift, along the likes of true friendship, classic jazz and clean water. Imagine a society that placed high importance around the enjoyment of a daily nap.