It has been, in my estimation, a practically perfect day.
I got in that garden and cleared out a huge swatch of weeds, revealing lovely wiggling worms and nice black dirt. I sweated and got filthy dirty and listened to the book I'm reading with my ears right now, The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory and it may not be great literature but it carries me right along with it, the narrator a good one, the story hot with lust and conniving, scheming and betrayal, courtly life and ambition.
My hands in the dirt, my ears in the court of King Henry VIII.
When I had done all I could do with my wrist, I moved on to the yard and pulled some of the spent lilies, the wild gladiolas which, after their sparse bloom, lay down on the job from exhaustion and beg to be put to mercy.
I heard a bit of an interview with Diane Rehm with Bob Edwards and she talked about how her beloved husband of 54 years died this year from Parkinson's and he wanted to be done with his suffering, to be put, yes, to mercy, and his doctor could not help him but said, "If you want, you can stop taking your medications, stop drinking water and stop eating," and he did and ten long days later, he died and I think of that and it makes me despair for him and for his wife who had to sit by and watch this because she respected his wishes and what strength that must have taken for her, not to mention him. My god.
If we did that with a dog- decided that the best way to euthanize him would be to starve and withhold water from him- we would be arrested for cruelty. And yet, if someone is powerfully motivated to die and can receive no help, no help at all from the medical community, this is the only option. It is cruel and it is wrong. There is nothing else to say about it except that I cannot imagine a more inhuman attitude towards life and death.
Don't even start with me about how life is sacred and death comes when it should because that's a bullshit lie and we keep people going for long periods of time with medications and treatments when their lives are nothing but pain and despair and they long for peace and there is nothing natural about that at all when the person involved, the person who longs for peace, begs for succor, for release.
Here is a picture I got of one of our golden orb weavers with her web.
Mr. Moon cut the grass while I worked in the garden and yard and when we were done, we showered and napped a bit and when I got up, one of the candidates for county commissioner knocked on the door and I've met her once and she's so down-home and such a sweetie and I said, "Hey Betsy! I'm going to vote for you!" and she remembered my name (or more likely, got it off the tax roles) and we chatted for awhile about Lloyd and stuff and she asked if she could put a sign in my yard and I said yes and the chickens scratched and sang around us and she said my yard looked so beautiful. Of course she's a politician to the core but I do truly believe she has best interests at heart and besides that, my yard does look beautiful in its funky, wild way.
Here's Maurice, hanging out the dog, now cat-door.
Missy is back on her no-egg nest so I spoke too soon about the brood thing.
Prairie Home Companion is on and I'm going to go listen to that and make pizza with ALL of the ingredients on it and I'm extremely excited about that. Mr. Moon is still wearing his Owen bracelet and I am as in love with that man today as a teenager with her first crush so here I go to make dough and saute mushrooms and red pepper and chop pineapple and olives and artichoke hearts and slice tomatoes and onions. There will be sweet and there will be savory, there will be salty and there will be cheesy and today life has been like that, with ALL of the ingredients and my body feels strong and good, my heart is at ease.
For this one day, at least, I will let the politicians and the leaders take care of it all in whatever way they can from cleaning up trash on the roads to trying to negotiate peace in the middle east and there is no end to any of it but for now, right this second, I am just so grateful to be able to take care of this tiny, infinitely small piece of the universe where I live and glory in the delicious comfort of it. A place I share not only with my husband but with the worms and spiders, the caterpillars and butterflies, the chickens and the cat, the great oaks and the weeds.
I am not complacent. I am simply filled with love and contentment.
I am thinking of this J.R.R. Tolkien quote which I am sure I have given here before.
“It is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succour of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.”
Amen, J.R.R. And thank you.