It is a day of quiet for me. I have no need to go to town, no one is coming here that I know of. The boys and I had a good day yesterday although it rained on and off. Gibson and I sat on the porch swing and rocked gently, watching the rain fall down. He focused on it intently and we were quiet until he wanted to sing the Eensy Weensy Spider (or do you call it the Itsy Bitsy Spider?) and we did and he was so happy. He cheers when the spider climbs up the spout again. All above us and around us were the banana spiders as we sang. It was sort of a perfect moment in time.
Boppa came home and then all the boys wanted his him. I fed them all pizza for supper and Boppa took them home to their mama and I cleaned up and that was another day, slipped through like a dream.
All of it seems like a dream, lately. These long, summer days of cicada buzz and afternoon thunder storms. The birdsong and dappled shade. The tomatoes and watermelons, the heat, the lazing cat, the napping dogs, the slow rotation of summer's flowers- the passion flower, the clitoria, the brown-eyed susans, the morning glory, the crepe myrtle which is having a spectacular year.
Soon the hurricane lilies will be pushing up, the confederate rose will begin to bud and open.
Jessie texted me this morning that she saw a bumper sticker that reminded her of me. It said, "If indoor plumbing doesn't make you happy, I don't know what will."
I belong to a Facebook group called Old Florida and they posted a picture of a house today which is almost the exact twin of one I lived in back in the seventies. The house where I learned that if indoor plumbing doesn't make you happy, then I don't know what will because it had none.
We froze in that house and we sweltered. It rented for $75 a year.
That is not a typo.
I have indoor plumbing now. And air conditioning and heating. And I am grateful. But I tell you what- I did not hate living in that house. There was a pump out back and I got strong, pumping our water. There was a beauty to it that taught me a lot about life and how simple it can be and how I can learn to make do. When the corn fields around us died from lack of rain the summer we lived there I learned to appreciate rain and the cool miraculous relief and sustenance of it.
I talk about setting the bar too low when it comes to what makes me happy, content. But honestly, I think that if more of us had lived in conditions that much of the world lives in, it would be a good thing. We would all be satisfied with less. We would all appreciate what we have so much more.
It has certainly worked that way for me.