Tuesday, March 25, 2014

An Ill Wind

The wind has been blowing all day and maybe it's that which is making me feel ill-fit for my skin, ill-fit for anything.

The baby chicks are huddled up in their little house in the coop and the last of the Bradford Pear blossoms have drifted to the ground and the leaves from the oaks which hung on so tenaciously all winter are whirling down in spirals as the new green takes their place.

I went out to weed some more but even as I did it, I knew I was consigning myself to another night of discomfort and that took the joy out of it. It was pain and not pleasure. My whole body aches, each finger joint, hip joint, muscle ache a reminder of some insult I have suffered. Falls and overuse and the carrying of burdens. Some of them physical, some of them probably not.

I keep making lists in my head of all the things I need to do and haven't done. The CEU's for the nursing license, the appointment with an optometrist, the garden I need to get planted, the limbs and branches fallen and dead, waiting for me to pick up and take to the burn pile. The flower beds that need tidying and weeding. The house that needs a good cleaning- or any cleaning at all.

None of it. I do none of it.
I make soup and listen to the wind and just ache and hope that tomorrow is better.

Here's two pictures of the old graveyard in the woods I pass on my walk sometimes. Somehow, it feels fitting this evening.



8 comments:

  1. sounds like you need a date with your tub, some epsom salt and a little lavender and orange blossom essential oils...maybe a candle too!
    I know I should be giving my body this too...

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  2. The bottom picture's grave is exactly like the Arlington Cemetary ones.

    You're sending the wind this way...40-50 mph expected by morning. Hope your unease moves away with it.

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  3. Be good to yourself Ms. Moon. You care for two lively boys and that is exhausting. A wonderful thing for all but exhausting for you. You have every right to be tired and ache.

    That cemetery is lovely. A nice place to live out eternity. When I die I want a green burial. Wrap me in burlap and toss my in a hole. Stick a rock on it if anyone so desires.



    "dear mother earth
    i think i have always
    specially belonged to you.
    i have loved from babyhood
    to roll upon you,
    to lie with my face pressed
    right down onto you,
    in my sorrows.
    i love the look of you
    and the smell of you.
    when i die, i should like
    to be in you unconfined,
    unshrouded.
    the petals of flowers
    against my flesh and
    you covering me up."

    by: emily carr

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  4. Might I suggest one of microwave hot packs? they make them filled with lavender. More comforting than a heating pad, I find.
    My list is crazy long right now, too. Whack-a-mole. Delete one thing. Add another. Wishing both of us luck.

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  5. It's OK not to get things done. Just relax, let your body recover a bit. Let the ill wind blow itself out. (I actually love wind.)

    That cemetery is great. I love tiny old burial grounds like that. So fascinating.

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  6. Yes, those lists. Endless. I sometimes use different coloured paper to get some shape into it. As if that makes the slightest difference.
    Take it easy, the wind will calm down soon.

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  7. Bigmamabird- I took that bath this morning. I am not sure it helped so much but my bathroom is so beautiful in the mornings with the light, so peaceful that it was a good thing.

    SJ- The wind has passed and left some other bizarre disturbance in its place. May we all settle down again soon.

    Birdie- Thank you for that lovely poem. You know, I always wanted to be cremated until I read about green burial. Now I think of that and it seems righteous. Yes. Wrap me up and settle me down into our mother who will take me back and use my bones again.

    Denise- But you are actually doing things. I just think of them and shudder. I swear.
    I should try that lavender pack. It sounds lovely.

    Steve Reed- This one goes way back to the early 1800's and yet, people are still occasionally buried there. A local family must own it.

    Sabine- You are right. I know it. It's just so hard to believe it sometimes.

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  8. Blowing a gale here too. Glad to be home, even though this has been a difficult week.

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