Go with the
flow
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Remember those
words from long ago? I glance at
tee-shirts on computer side-bar ads, and see that phrases from when I was young
and innocent, or at least oblivious, our phrases
are making a comeback.
So go with
the flow even if you’ve no idea what it means.
I remember
during a particularly tough few years when my mantra (I didn’t know the word
mantra back then.) was “acceptance is the answer to all my problems today”. I
thought if I said it often enough the words would magically seep into my hard
head with complete understanding. To me the two phrases mean much of the
sameness.
Crin told me
early this morning that her day is filled with “maybes”. Maybe she and her
sister Kathy would go to Guadalajara to pick up the car they are buying. Maybe
the paperwork would be ready. Maybe the insurance would be in place. Maybe the
work items would be finished.
In other
words, a day like any other. Go with the flow.
We sprang
forward with the dread time-change Sunday so this week I’m indulging myself in
a few days of grumbling. There is never enough
time.
My own plans
today are rather nebulous but include baking a batch of bread and mopping the
floors.
But before I
start any project, I can see that I absolutely must harvest lettuce from one of my buckets.
On the way
to the lettuce bucket, I have to stop to allow the jasmine to permeate every
cell of my being. I know if you close your eyes, you can smell the sweet
jasmine all the way where you are.
The bucket
of recently planted zucchini will be giving me first fruits by the weekend
along with a treat of fried squash blossoms. A tiny lizard has resided in the
bucket for several days now, so I give it my blessing. “Eat bugs; eat plenty
bugs,” I suggest.
Then I have
to fuss over the rhubarb, now several stalks strong. Instructions say don’t
harvest any rhubarb the first growing year but I don’t know if I’ll be
disciplined enough to obey that order. Just the thought of making a sauce with
even three or four crisp stalks and pouring the sauce over a bowl of vanilla
ice-ream makes my mouth water.
Mmmm.
Ice-cream. I’ve not indulged my sweet longing for the cool treat all these
weeks. Easter is a mere few days away. I can do it. I like the discipline of
denying myself a few pleasures for Lent. It’s not a religious thing with me.
I’m not holy nor assured a place with the angels. I like the discipline of
Lent. I’m selective about my disciplines. Aren’t you?
Obviously I
haven’t eaten breakfast yet so salad for breakfast seems to be in order. I cut
enough leafy lettuce for a huge salad. I grab two small tomatoes from my
perpetual-tomato bucket.
A peek in
the refrigerator gave me the rest of the fixings, an apple and cheese still
good for today. Onion, sweet red pepper, a smidge of cheese and chopped pecans
filled out the rest of the salad bowl and my stomach.
I’ve hardly
blinked, it seems, and the time fast-forwarded to mid-afternoon. My bread dough
has transformed from a mound in the big blue ceramic bowl to nicely shaped
loaves in the bread pans, waiting for the final step into the oven.
Now I get to
make a choice. I can mop the floor or finish this
hardest-jigsaw-puzzle-in-the-world which I’ve been working on for three weeks.
The picture is an owl swooping over the shores of a marsh. Sounds simple,
right? The entire puzzle is composed of lines with variations of three colors.
Each piece is shaped the same, two innies and two outies. In early days, four
pieces in place were cause for celebration.
In Spanish a
jigsaw puzzle is called a rompecabezas
which roughly translates “breaks my head” and the word is apt. I love puzzles,
the different space my mind occupies when indulging, and I’m good at color and
space. This one broke my head. I’ve about a hundred pieces left.
Which would
you choose? Mop the floors? Finish the puzzle?
There it is,
puzzle finished. I’ll wipe off those little drips of butter from the warm bread
which smeared the last five pieces. I’ll mop tomorrow. That’s discipline.
That’s the flow.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
April 7,
2022
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
No comments:
Post a Comment