Tag: chores

Sunday Morning

This morning I awoke to the sounds of birds and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.  The sunlight was dim through the windows, with hints of blue, presaging an incredible day.  Now the sun is up, and all that seemed promised is true.  New leaves are appearing on the tulip tree and the redbud; the birds are still singing.  Robert Browning wrote, “all’s right with the world.”  On mornings such as this, it is best to believe it, and so I shall.

So, what to do?  We are having family over for Sunday dinner, so there are things to be done around the house, a bit of shopping, a bit of cooking.  It is a simple thing to do – marinated lamb roast, salad, bread or rice or potatoes, tzatziki.  The company is to be enjoyed, and hopefully all invited will be able to join.

Life – and time to finally live it – is grand.  No more “return to work” dates; I choose what to do and when.  The Puritan side of me espouses “pain before pleasure,” meaning, get the unpleasant stuff out of the way ASAP!  That means chores, like cleaning.  I like clean things, but the cleaning process is not exciting – I’d rather be outside digging in the dirt or drawing or reading.  The satisfaction of a chore, to me, is when it is done.  Putting it off dulls the joy in other activities, but as I like an orderly and relatively clean house and studio, it makes sense.  Doing the unpleasant first makes the rest of the day move into infinity.

Yesterday I bought some plants -peppers, alyssum, dianthus.  Bulbs were on sale half price since it is past their season.  Potting soil, too.  Before I start the dinner shopping, but after housework, I shall begin work on my little front yard flower bed.  My gardener worked in some soil for me, and now I have some ideas as to what I am going to do with it.  Its a sunny – shady area as it faces west, with the house to the east.  Afternoons find it quite shady, and as summer comes along, I think it gets shady earlier.  Alyssum and dianthus will be along the outer borders of the plot – see below – bulbs sporadically distributed depending on their sun requirements – and the peppers will be placed in their own pots out on the sunny southern patio (aka “the dog-free zone” or the “DFZ”!)

Along with gardening, planning for my next painting is on the way.  I have been following various YouTube painters – as you have seen in earlier posts – but I have also been working my way through a book on perspective and contemplating spartan photography.  (Huh?  Wuzzat?)

And, Josh and I spent 3 days in San Diego, which was something wonderful to do – get away from it all to enjoy coming back to it all!

 

Now

As we get older, time becomes less. We have less of it.

Having a conversation about the sense of time, and the differences in the perception of time we had as children – summer lasted forever – and now as adults – the children are grown! – whoever I was talking with said that our perspectives shift with age because of the contexts we have in our brain. Children are more immediate, and adults have touching points. These touching points are referential – we use them to frame our reality.  Children are developing memory, while we are full of them. Older people can remember their childhood often more vividly than they can recall the day before.

I know for me this is certainly true. And the result is that I forget about the immediacy of living – the moment of now. Instead, my head is filled with plans and structures because of all the things I need to do now.  If I don’t get certain things done now, I will miss out on windows, whether for opportunity or survival.

“Being here now” has so many different meanings – the nowness of chores and things that have to be done (which is where I am at today with bills and job applications) – and, of course, living and doing in the moment. I forget this so often that my sense of spontaneity is vanishing, and the horizon of my life is hurtling toward me at an increasingly rapid pace. I schedule the “thou shalts” and forget the “let’s”.  How sad to think that I may lose what time I have left because I forget the joy of the moment and structure my life with tasks and chores and must-do-its.

I fear I am becoming increasingly dreary.