Every morning I wake up in the dire straits of anxiety. I mean, it's just a fact. I know by now that it's going to dissipate, settle down, but I also know that it will take a while and the best thing I can do is take my medication, go about my business, take a walk.
I just got back from today's walk and my timing was excellent- it has just begun to rain. I passed a man who was watering his winter-brown grass and he can put his hose away now. It's so funny to me how some people are absolutely aware of every leaf that falls on their yard and are driven to distraction picking them all up and some people like this man who was watering love to put rocks around every tree and bush- bright, white rocks, and some people keep things tidy enough but don't seem to stress out about it and some people just really don't give a shit and allow junk and garbage to pile up all around their houses as if they have entirely given up on ever trying to live in a place of order or serenity. There are yards with giant cement lions in them and yards with cement blocks in them and yards without a bush or a flower or a tree and yards that are more forest glen than lawn and yards where houses were built in piny woods but then the pines were all cut, leaving nothing but an attempt at grass. One neighbor bought a place with a modular home on it across from the trash depot and cut all the trees and has at least seven or eight (perhaps more) large boats on trailers in the yard and a huge iron framework for what looks to be a giant hanger sort of shelter is slowly being built. There are also trucks and cars of every description in that yard and there are many yards with cars in them which have not driven so much as an inch in the years I've been here.
There is a shade tree mechanic down the road whose yard is currently filled with cars and trucks and I assume they are being worked on but I am not sure. There is a man who sells hot fish dinners from an old, shut-down garage and he does his cooking on an outdoor grill. Sometimes he puts up a sign that says, "Crabs."
I have not seen Dearie today.
It is gloomy today and not cold. The cats are on the porch with me, alternately keeping watch over the back yard and snoozing. Mick is standing guard by the hen house and I wonder if a hen is in there laying an egg.
I may go to Goodwill later on. I may go to Publix. I may not.
Here I am in Lloyd, Florida where we all mostly get along and the rain has almost come to an end and the camellias are starting to bloom and I can hear a cardinal calling from a tree, the slow drip of water onto fallen leaves.