Small Thoughts
My upright rosemary is blooming. That’s a first. I guess it needed time to acclimate to its new home. There are also buds on three small trees, the persimmon, the Mexican plum, and the sandpaper tree. And the mealy sage a friend gave me last year is coming up from their roots. Lots of growth activity in the gardens and the grounds. At some point next month, I’ll have to get busy myself. But I have a trip coming up, and my resources are dedicated.
I’m moving slow through the world these days. Picking my steps. Picking my times. Picking my moves. There have been days in the last weeks when the only person with whom I’ve spoken was a store clerk. That’s okay. I have things to do and I’m doing them. But I no longer feel compelled to be busy all the time as if there’s a scorecard being kept, logging my activity for a future judge. In fact, I’ve banished the idea of wasting time from my vocabulary.
I rise. I write. I work. I eat. I think. The day passes. The days pass. I think I’ve found a lever, a place to stand, and a small part of the earth that I can move. Me. Feels fairly consequential, and I’m not sure why. All I know is that three hyacinth bulbs have sprouted beneath the big crape myrtle. They will bloom. I will see them. And the pleasure of that seeing will stay with me until they come again.