Purple violets! Scores of them! And it occurred to me that every damn spring I forget that there will be violets. How is that possible? The ones which come up in my yard first are the white ones. When I got home, I checked but they are not out yet. They will be soon. And now I am reminded to look for them.
I spent a lot of time outside. It was too pretty not to. I finally and at last planted those two little baby palms and the camellia. Before my walk I asked my husband to take out a volunteer redbud that I've been meaning to get rid of for years. It was growing in a place where it could never thrive, right underneath a pecan and I've thought about taking it out forever but never got around to it. So finally, I asked Mr. Moon and he dug it up for me and I planted my palms in the bed where it had been and some day, probably long after I'm gone, they will stand tall and true and that thought makes me happy. The planting of trees, whether live oak or palm or magnolia or dogwood, is a thing we do for future generations and I am proud and happy to do that.
I planted the camellia which Kathleen had given me, just to the left of my kitchen porch which means I will see it and be glad for it a dozen times a day, at least.
It felt so good to kneel in the dirt and put those plants in. The air is cool but the sun was warm and my bones and heart felt soothed with rightness. Not righteousness, but rightness. I unwrapped my plants and watered them. I repotted a plant. And then I was tired.
I didn't make it to the store. Again, my husband did me a mitzvah and he went. He bought chicken wings and vegetables and hummus for tonight's game. Me? I shucked my overalls and socks and took another nap. Sleep, these days, is like another life for me. Another country. I lay down and am overwhelmed with the comfort of the bed, the covers, the cool air washing over me and I read for awhile and then I sleep. Last night's sleep was not good. I kept waking up with dream images that were not comforting at all. I finally got up and went to the guest room and there I slept, finally, and well, knowing that my turning and reaching for cool pillows was not keeping my husband awake.
But my naps are good and dreamless. I wake up and have to force myself to rise from the covers, to re-enter life, as it were. But I do. I did.
I went out this evening and took a few more pictures. Here are some blooms from last year's oak-leaf hydrangea, lace now, against the late afternoon sky.
Their beauty is subtle but I am aware of it. Soon the new growth of spring will push these aside but for this moment, they are there, they are beautiful.
And so this day has gone. Mr. Moon and I have danced around together doing this and that and a little while ago, I took his hand and showed him the ash magnolia and how it is starting to leaf and the buck-eye, too, which is coming right along and about to put forth its red blossom. We have watched the birds together at the feeder and discussed the simplest things. He is such a comfort to me.
Here he is, making his veggie tray.
He and our neighbor are watching That Game now and I can only be grateful that he is here, right at home, and I know that if I need anything, anything at all, he will do what he can to offer it.
I have no idea if I will live as long as my mother did. I rather doubt it. But I don't care because honestly, I have had so much joy and goodness handed my way that I already feel as if my life has been filled and overfilled to the brim.
Even now, on this day where it's been a bit of a difficult thing to get through, there have been violets and warm dirt and love.
I have gone on. I have, indeed, abided.