Summer and plants and pets and Taylor
/My word. More than two months have passed since I last sat down to write. I hate that the temporal space between posts seems to be getting longer; what feels like stuck is actually rustiness. And with that comes a sheepishness, or perhaps a sluggishness, with both writing and sharing.
Such avoidance happens for very real reasons—time constraints, busyness, the kids getting older, some things just don’t need to be shared—but also it’s rather like exercise; if you stop, it’s awfully easy to never return. Writing, as I always tell my students, is both craft and therapy. It takes practice and effort, but the returns are substantial: greater skill, augmented self awareness, and peace. Regardless of what “it” is, better out than in.
Societally, the concurrent increase in loneliness and decrease in mental well-being are markers of a terrible trend of isolation and lack of trust. There are many reasons for both: Covid, social media, the climate crisis, partisan politics, a rapidly fraying social contract based on fact, mutuality, and kindness. And sometimes that all feels utterly overwhelming. Overwhelm makes it easy to stop exercising, writing, making time and space for the joys of living. I see that in my students all the time. I see it in myself and my beloved friends and family, too.
But here I am, back to the page. Happily so. I am sitting in our reading room in WV. Ruthie is cleaning her bottom with absolute dedication and thoroughness. Now she’s on to a paw. If you’ve never watched a cat bathe its paws, you are missing out on a darling process. Try to find a bathing cat, and I swear you’ll feel nearly hypnotized.
At Oliver’s 8th grade graduation; now heading to 12th and 9th.
Both Jack and Oliver left last Friday; Jack flew to Berkeley for an engineering and leadership program, and Oliver returned to Pine Island. After my two round trips to Dulles, I loaded my car with the cats, guinea pigs, and a few groceries and headed to WV. Tom joined me later that day and stayed for five. We’re lucky to be able to work remotely from here, and all credit for that goes to T who has jury-rigged some system involving an old phone, a new SIM card, a router, and something made by eero that blankets Wi-Fi over your house. Why is that necessary, you might ask? Because West Virginia, both poor and mostly rural, is vastly underserved by broadband internet that so many of us take for granted. So, yay Tom.*
I was not in, shall we say, a calm state when I arrived. Last week was madness as Jack had his driving test for his license (he passed!), both kids had Global Entry interviews, both needed to pack, there were appointments, etc. But immediately, as I always am when the boys first leave in the summer, I was struck by how time takes on a completely different personality when it doesn’t need to be so fastidiously and constantly shared with so many. Everything slows. Initially, it almost feels like some drug-induced alternate reality experience. I kept worrying that the day was almost over but when I checked the clock, it was but lunchtime. The first three nights we were here, I slept for 10-12 hours each. I have since read four whole books, one of which I bought and first started two years ago.**
I have gardened a lot, too. Duh. For me, working outside is like the physical form of writing; both are immersive processes that enable/force you to focus and process. Gardening allows you the time, writing demands it. I am determined to wrangle some control over the four zones that surround the house, all of which had been left to nature for decades prior to us buying this property. I love me some nature, but invasive shit that thrives on increased atmospheric carbon dioxide levels and related drought and heat is not my jam. It benefits nothing but has an insatiable appetite for area. Slowly, I’m reclaiming a fair bit of land and infusing it with love, amendments, and native (and some just beautiful) plants along the way. Penstemon, bee balm, spirea, echinacea, sedges and grasses (not fescue or turf; nothing that needs a crap ton of water and provides almost nothing for nature), ferns, solidago, mountain mint, hydrangeas…the list goes on, and honestly, I am very proud. It is peaceful and beautiful here. It always was, but when I look out and my eyes are awash in bees, butterflies, birds, frogs, fireflies (right now!), and so forth, I am deeply happy and satisfied. Today I planted three black chokeberries, two Itea virginica Little Henrys, a Virginia Creeper, and 10 Pycnanthemum muticum aka short toothed mountain mint. I did this in 85 degree heat and an N95, mind you, because smoke from the Canadian wildfires rendered the air here (and in MD and throughout the area) Code Red quality. Several hours in, it was like I was trying to waterboard myself. Awful. My heart hurts for all in California, Canada, and around the world who deal with this on the regular. The climate crisis is worsening.
After Hurricane Laura, as we salvaged and packed everything possible in my parents’ house, someone thought to get the porch swings. Mom and Dad had had them made for the house back in 1994, and, until Laura, one hung on each of the two back porches overlooking the bayou. They gave us one when we bought this home, and last month we finally found the perfect spot and hung it. It’s in Zone 3, of my 4 labeled mission-to-reclaim areas, which has been the biggest bear to wrangle into some submission, but the view is sublime and having this swing is worth all effort.
I have to return home tomorrow, and while I hope the WV version of time will come with me, it won’t, at least not for long. I’m going to go have a quiet dinner now, but let me just leave you with a bit of Taylor.
Swift that is. Yes, I am a total Swiftie.
Tom and I saw her second show in Pittsburgh over Father’s Day weekend, and it was worth every penny, all the driving, and the two hours it took us to get out of the parking garage afterwards. Taylor is an absolute queen. QUEEN. I feel so lucky to have been there. She sang and danced for 3+ hours straight. Everyone in the crowd was blissed out. Everyone felt welcome and happy and seen. It was such a gathering of acceptance, love, and joy.
*and screw you, Tommy Tuberville, and all Republicans who voted against Biden’s broadband funding but then raved about how it would benefit their people.
**New terrific mystery/crime writer alert: Catherine Ryan Howard. Irish, terrific writer with great, tense plots. Start with The Liar’s Girl! Distress Signals is also fab. I cannot wait to read more.
The book I bought two years ago was not one of CRH’s. I may need to write an entire post about said two-year-old book because while the story was good, the writing caused me great distress. NO ONE needs to use the word scent four times in two consecutive sentences. Pain.
