I have a lot of violets growing in my lawn. It can’t even be called lawn really anymore, which I think is a good thing, as now it’s more violets and clover and (Rosie’s favorite) dandelions. And in a little while, it will even be covered with little strawberries so small that the girls will sit there forever just gathering up enough to make one bite.
Maybe you can tell I’ve been going through a bit of a crisis these last few weeks. And for those of you that know me, you say, “Oh, Alana’s going through another crisis again, just wait a few minutes and it will pass- she’ll soon be making granola again and all will be well.” And the truth is, you’re absolutely right. Yes, as usual, I’m thinking too much for my own good, and stressing in a very illogical twenty first century groundless way about making sure I’m doing the right thing, changing the world in appropriate amounts, being happy, etc. etc. And I can’t say I’m feeling all that original in the process.
But I’m running around this morning right? And everyone’s trying to get off to school, and I have yet to even start getting ready for work. And I’m wearing this mint green fuzzy bathrobe that I acquired under very strange circumstances, which I will not go into except to say that William Shatner was involved. And Rosie’s yelling “Toast!”, and I’ve got a hairbrush in one hand, several hair elastics in my mouth, and with my free hand I am rolling up ham and cream cheese in a tortilla, and I am opening the tupperware drawer with my foot, praying to some unknowable God that I may or may not believe in that I will find both containers and lids for all of the food items that I am putting together right now. And at that moment, I realize I am totally original, and pretty essential in that moment. And it’s funny. And then it passes and I keep going.
I’ve been thinking about Voltaire lately. I wrote an entrance essay to get into college on how Candide changed my life, about how it helped me to stop thinking so much and just to start working on something tangible, “to make our garden grow”. But lately I think that it is entirely and probably the case that Voltaire is probably making fun of not only all of the great and lesser philosophers of the world, he’s probably making fun of me, too. But who cares? I’ll take his lesson anyway, and try, at least try, to stop thinking so much and at least look at the fabulous gifts that the yard is providing. I’ve been getting my hands pretty dirty these days too. I have so much to show you, but today I’ll leave it at this:
This is the compost palace, almost finished! Now it has a lid, too, and I’ll show you a picture of it even more completed in my full garden post coming soon. Yes, Joey, is drinking a fabulous vodka gimlet in the picture, and he should be! (We’re all drinking a bit more around here these days, as Lori has advised us) This, this is so exciting. We’re thinking about kicking the compost out of it and maybe moving in ourselves.
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