Surely the pendulum of autumn is swinging toward winter, as I woke this morning to find my back garden frosty — the first time this fall.
The patio appears bare without orange and lemon trees. Favored, for sure, since they spent the night indoors with their lime tree cousins. But those other tropicals of mine? Well, I left the Tacoma to fend life for itself — unprotected. While without my husband’s presence, the best I could do for two hulking Hibiscus was to huddle them together with a few other tender perennials — invited only because they parked their pots in the right spot — under layers of great-grandma’s quilts and a paint tarp.
I hope they made it. Well, most of me hopes they made it. The pendulum swings back and forth on whether their summer beauty is worth the price of five months in the house looking — well, to be kind — less than their dress-for-success best.
Meanwhile, on the warm side of the window, I’m waiting inside. It’s a luxury to do so, to not have to venture out on a cold morning like today — to warm-up my car, to dress myself in warm clothes, to wait for the car heater to work its toasty magic — as I did in my twenties and thirties and more than half my forties. How many times did I tell myself on those drives into school or work that someday — that someday, I would choose when to go out and stay in — that someday, I wouldn’t live life to suit other people’s needs and wishes and clocks — that someday I could keep time and spend it as I chose.
Well, so far, with only two out of three, someday hadn’t arrived in full. But the rest of my someday will surely follow.
Not today, of course. Because today I’ve got to move an orange and lemon tree outdoors and I’ve got to lift off the quilts and tarp to see how yesterday’s choices fared. And I’ve got to spread mulch. And time permitting, amend soil in the east garden that’s close to being done.
Yep — even though it’s still cold, I need to venture outside and work the garden.
And yep — I sure like the sounds of hearing ‘someday.’ Why talking about ‘someday’ makes me think I have all the time in the world. And then some. In spite of that pendulum swinging toward winter.
Well, well… Just when we think we know what’s in store for the weekend, we get a 5.6 earthquake. You all ok up there?
I hope that moving plants and tarps and spreading mulch are still at the top of your list, and not sweeping up broken glassware or such.
An earthquake surely can put all of our “someday thinking” in perspective, can’t it? The only really big one I’ve experienced was in California. It really wasn’t so big, but I watched waves of energy from it ripple a brick floor like the ocean. The surface of that floor wasn’t the only thing that was disturbed!
Just checking into my digital world, after a too-busy, lower-back hurting weekend in the garden.
Yes we’re doing fine — last night at 10:50, I wasn’t so sure. I wasn’t even sure what I was experiencing — bomb? — earthquake? — the Second Coming? (Being in the Bible Belt, I bet I wasn’t the only one who thought of Door #3 )
But no broken glass. No art flying off the walls. We just heard a lot of creaking and groaning out of our fifties Ranch while it was happening… which being an earthquake newbie, seemed like a really long time. We had just turned out the lights to go to sleep, so we rode it out in the comfort of our beds — with our two standard poodles beside us — and for the record, I’m pretty sure I was more spooked about it than the dogs since Max never even lifted his head. His way of telling me not to worry — perhaps?
Thanks for checking in on us.
Well, well… it’s been one of those weeks for you Oklahomans. I laughed at a rhetorical question on twitter last night – if the earth opens up during a quake, can you hide from tornados in the cracks? 😉
Here’s hoping things quiet down. With luck,you’re done with those storms, too. I’ve got my fingers crossed for rain today. It’s our best chance in forever.
I often say it’s always a good day when you don’t become an item in a news story.
Just an ordinary, every day is best in my books — when our specific slices of the world stay true to their predictable selves — like where in Oklahoma, we have a good old tornado to fear and wrestle with (or chase) — and where you in Houston are walloped with boo-koos of rain — which like snow everywhere else, always brings traffic to a screeching halt.
I love the Twitter question — sounds just like something that would roll off the keyboarding fingers of one of The Lost Ogle writers. Of course, parts of the state were under a tornado warning — and maybe I was a lonely only, but the thought of a third earthquake wasn’t on my radar…
Here’s hoping you get that rain. And then some. But not enough for the AP wire. Or the likes of Twitter-dee and Tweedledum. 🙂
We have pea soup thick fog in Muskogee again this morning. The remaining chard and kale plants look positively mystical.
Dreading the hard freeze they predicted for later this week.
Welcome, new friend.
Thinking about your dread, I’m asking myself whether I, too, dread the upcoming hard freezes as winter presses upon us.
Strange — but I don’t think I do. That is not to say I won’t miss my daily dose of garden therapy — as no matter what wrongs are rocking my world, tending my garden has a way of sitting everything right. Or putting ALL in perspective.
I like thinking about mystical chard and kale — I took your words and carried them with me today, turning them over in my mind, like I would soil for a fresh sewing of seed. I can easily imagine — that in the just right light and environment — we can all appear a bit mystical to one another.
Thanks for your words.