For those of you who have followed my little porch/patio over the seasons … it has begun, as I told one friend. Though there’s a wierd (though lovely) warm spell taking place this week, in from the porch have come the majority of herbs, including rosemary, sage, thyme, that bewildering chocolate mint and the strawberry plant that grew but did not fruit. A few small flowering perennials. Outside now is mostly some fall hardy plants like mums and those remnants that I think shall beautify the porch until the first real snowfall.
Getting far too much exercise with carting plants up to the third floor south facing window. There are some empty spaces yet to be filled. We’ll see where the autumn takes us.
… I have been reminded and I have learned on my own that this beautiful autumn light can make it hard for drivers to see as the sun nears setting. But, oh, what a glorious sight for us pedestrians Friday along the Commonwealth Avenue Mall and adjacent streets in Boston.
Given the direction I was walking this past Friday I was having a hard time seeing as well. Though what I did see what well worth the stroll. A return visit is a must.
… I looked up and out the window and this is what I saw.
Thank goodness I wasn’t trying to multitask, look up out the window, slice veggies with a sharp knife, etc.
Years ago, probably around the early 2000s, I was walking home instead of taking the Green Line public transportation. As I walked I happened to look up. The sky was on fire. I just stood there. I was walking through a neighborhood where people, at least at that time, didn’t often look like me. A man came out of his house. At first he looked at me and then he too looked up. We just stood in wonder. I don’t remember that we exchanged words, just acknowledged each other with a smile before I moved on and he went back inside.
Later that strange science fellow I’d met explained about the sun lighting the clouds from below. With my then-new interest in photography, I raced around the city trying to capture this phenomena. He even tried to help by driving me to places where the sun would be setting. And once, after leaving his church, he stopped by a flea market and surprised me with a fine art photograph of clouds by a local photographer. Years later, he couldn’t remember the origin of the print, that hangs in our bedroom, but I could remind him. And then he did remember.
I found this picture on my laptop this morning. I must have downloaded it to share as part of the slide deck that was shown during his memorial service. This fishing trip must have been ten years ago. I know I have pictures of an older Steve with shovel in hand working in the garden, planting his basil and staking tomatoes. I have pictures of him in his woodworking shop making our dining table. There are pictures of him in the kitchen with his walker coaching whomever in how to do things like cooking salmon, making pesto or aioli. And I have pictures of him in his wheelchair as sous chef slicing vegetables and seasoning meat. And I have pictures of him in the bed resting or sometimes patiently waiting for someone to help us (he was fully a partner) to transfer safely from bed to chair and back again. Those pictures, those images, capture a long leg of a long journey that I am honored to have traveled for awhile at his side. It has been just over three months since he shuttled off the mortal coil, so to speak. Today is his birthday and of all the pictures I can access this is the one that surfaced out of the blue. And it the one that has become my favorite (of the moment anyway) because it captures the heart of him.
… if I had posted it would have been such a moody piece. The weather was so dark and gray and wet and cold. You get the picture. But today, this early morning, the sun is already cutting through the fog and leaves are being filled with light. I need to race into work but because there are some cold, cold nights coming up I’ve taken time to pick the last of the basil for a coworker. Plenty of green still growing on the porch though. I have already moved some things inside to overwinter. I just watered them. I have no idea why I’m protecting this chocolate mint but it sure does smell good when I brush against it. Okay, I’m running late. Have a good day, people. Onward!
Trimmings from plants potted in soil. They seem to like the water. I suppose there is hydroponic gardening. Some nice healthy roots forming. We’ll see whether water or soil.
My mother used to say I could get lost in a paper bag. I truly have no sense of direction. Compasses are beautiful objects but I can’t use one. If I pay attention I figure out other ways to navigate. But searching for lunch today I didn’t pay attention and so I did become lost and saw some wonderful sights.
I made it back of course, my colleagues, none the wiser. It is not something to be planned but I do look forward to a future lost lunchbreak.
… I so wanted to be by the water. There are so many options, near and far, but I couldn’t pull myself together mentally/logistically to make it happen. And so, after some necessary home tasks, I walked my neighborhood and walked and walked and walked and actually stumbled upon an Octoberfest event with streets closed off and locals just having a good time. I couldn’t make myself stop though it was good to pass through the joy being expressed by young and old.
Then today came. I woke up late, after having trouble sleeping last night. Just managed to pull myself together and make it to work and actually be present physically and mentally. When I left work I was struck by that thing that strikes me quite often since Steve’s passing. I don’t have a reason to rush home … and as for what I experience during the day … I don’t have him to bear witness to my exploits. But also as I left work today I felt lighter than yesterday. I don’t know why. In any case, I decided to be as aimless in my afternoon wandering as I once was known for years ago. I randomly picked a direction and began walking and looking about me.
I let curiosity guide me. I walked into art galleries I’ve never entered before. In one I looked about me and said softly, “You’d like this exhibit.” It involved chess pieces. 🙂 And then I stopped in a deli, ordered a sandwich and thought, why not eat this on the Charles River Esplanade. By the water.
Once there, as I walked, this is what I recorded: “A woman on a park bench reading a book. A man helping his daughter down from a tree and probably desperately hoping she doesn’t scrape a knee else he’ll have some explaining to do to mom. The homeless man draped in a plaid blanket studying a green leaf. Couples sitting side by side on benches some talking to each other and some both looking into their phones. Droplets on my skin from the fountain when the wind blows. Empty benches that I should sit upon and eat my sandwich because I haven’t eaten all day but it feels okay and relaxing to just keep walking for a bit. “
Eventually I did stop because, drumroll, I stumbled upon another Octoberfest-y thing. Unlike yesterday when I just walked through and onward, this time I stopped, ordered some wine, sat at a picnic table and perused the book I purchased in one of the art galleries. It was not a bad day.
A rainy morning and so it has been the past few days. Luckily, at least where I am, it is a gentle rain. Steady. The plants on the porch are happy with the exception of the lemon verbena. With the rain has come a briskness. While I’ve since learned that swiss chard and sorrel are cold hardy even into the winter months, verbena needs the warmth and so soon I suspect I will strip the leaves and dry them for tea.
It is too wet to sit outside. There are pools of water in the chairs. I should have tilted them. So I sit at the threshhold looking out, protected. It is where Steve used to sit in his chair. Sometimes from this vantage he would play a recorder. When he played, especially if he was on the porch and not just at the threshhold, I warned him to be careful of the young children across the street. Surely he did not want to become the Pied Piper and attract a gaggle of little people who would come knocking at our door. Although, but of course, a Steve of a different age/time would have loved just that and would have had me feed them. Or, if I wasn’t home, he would have surely taught them how to raid the refrigerator, use a knife, slice potatoes and cheese, whatever … and then school them in how to sit and have a meal together.
I sit here with my coffee and it is the falling rain providing music in the background. Later I’ll find the classical music station. We live on a quiet street without much traffic which makes it a mecca for children on Halloween. I have candy but I don’t know yet if I have the energy to sit outside that evening and be genuinely present to handout sweets. Steve enjoyed the ritual and sat out there a few times these past years doling out candy and costume compliments.
I don’t know yet …
As people start to talk about holiday travel and such … well, I don’t know yet what I want to do and I think that’s okay. Let others plan as they must and should but for now I am comfortable just being.
This past weekend was an intensely people-filled two days almost literally from dawn to dusk. Not in any bad way just full. So I don’t mind, perhaps I even relish, the “quiet” of the rain and the pearl gray sky. A good day to write (and I’ve plenty to do for work), and to read (also for work but also pleasure). And after that I will focus on the other necessities. It is amazing the paperwork once someone passes, and the need to develop new methods of tracking things that need to get done, now with one brain instead of two.
And after all that, might I dare go for a walk in the rain as I used to do so many years ago? Originally by myself but sometimes I would invite/coerce Steve to go along, even in rain or snow. Well, if so, at the first unseen puddle that fills my shoes with water freezing my feet, I’m sure I’ll look upward, as I used to do with Steve, as he warmed my hands under his shirt to keep me from getting frostbite, I’m sure I’ll look up and mutter innocently, “Please tell me again. Who’s idea was this?”
