a white ceramic bowl of cherries on the kitchen table; oatmeal with cinnamon and homemade strawberry jam; a string of white lights on the rail of the balcony garden at dusk; mornings on horseback, afternoons napping at the pool, evenings watching movies & eating dinner from a bowl cupped warmly in my palm.
now in the balcony garden: three tomato plants, lavender, spearmint, lemon thyme, basil, chives, creeping rosemary, dill, tiny morning glories. the four o'clocks have not yet sprouted and one pot of glories also appears disinclined. the pole beans are planted and hopefully a) will sprout and b) will not grow too tall before they have to be moved. I can't help but continue to grow the garden despite knowing I won't be here past early july. the containers will transfer; hopefully the vining plants won't have attached themselves yet to any permanent fixture. funny: as we get ready to move into a house, I think with fear of planting things in the ground. ack! what kind of gardener quakes in fear at the thought of real ground? but my successes with plants have all been in this vast container garden, where pest control is easy and there are no worries of nibbly rabbits or frost or slugs.
today I feel nomadic, restless, roaming. it will be good to get out of town, as much as I love portland. today I'm longing for the plants and weather of the east coast: the tobacco growing in fields along the road in north carolina; the locusts chirping great waves of sound from the trees; the tall grass in the front fields of my home. oh, summer. my family got chickens last week -- the first livestock to live on the land in fourteen years. 'how are the girls?' I ask my mother. she sighs a great, wonderful happy sigh. 'they're great,' she replies. 'I just love having them here. they're so calming. it just seems right.' last week she sent me a photo of 'the girls' in their coop, along with a photo of a brown egg on the kitchen table. 'our first egg,' the text read.
today I had intended to work, and instead use my memorial day vacation time later this week, when I'll be in california, so as to save a day of actual vacation. but it's so nice out, and so good to be idle for once; I haven't decided what to do. I brought a pile of parts home to work on and I think I may plug away at them this evening, work a half-day instead. in the meantime my day's plans are so simple: go to the barn, pull Cookie out of her stall, and let her hand-graze while I read a book. we're not doing any work today; we've been riding the last three days and yesterday I had to get the spurs out to make her go. we're both tired.
here, have some gerbils and gardens.
happy memorial day, cupcakes.