|Note the new plates!|
Yesterday - just five weeks and four days since making hard guesses at what I might need until spring - I finally discovered what I brought other than my ice cream maker and glitter boots. Mostly dresses, fancy shoes and lots of hangers, plus bags of dry beans, wheat and canned tomatoes; it’s like Beverly Hillbillies minus the oil riches.
|Glitter boots, back on the farm|
Truth is, I’m 47 and all I have is time and (potential) garlic.
These days, I listen to sheriff helicopters not crop dusters. I switch my pick-up (locked, no keys inside) from curb to curb to avoid a ridiculous street sweeping ticket. I am still inspired by my vision but missing physical exertion. I am actively taking great comfort in the presence of beloved friends who make me giggle like a child and, of course, I am eating too much ‘holiday’ food.
The last 24 hours provide a telling snapshot of my current life:
As I told my mother recently, “If I’ve learned anything this summer, it’s how to celebrate where you are and not pine for someplace else - a waste of time.” I see this philosophy as an extension of the familiar song lyric, “If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with.” For god sakes, wherever you find yourself, be there.
Nevertheless, when jogging along the beach these days, I see the Pacific Ocean, the Queen Mary, endless happy LBC faces...and rows and rows of perfectly ripe garlic.