Six more weeks of winter — that’s the word from our large rodent friends. Not surprising, although it was approaching spring-like this past weekend.
Last Friday I schedule a doctor’s appointment in a panic because half my face was a little numb, my left eye had been twitching for over a week, and in general I was feeling pretty weird–I was afraid I was about to have a stroke. Earlier that day I had finally decided on a contractor and was in a panic over whether or not I was doing the right thing. Then I called my banker to discuss the fact that a set-back from the creek now means I cannot build my screened porch without a variance. He is looking into whether or not this impacts the appraisal enough that it will lower the amount of money I can borrow. I was a little stressed.
Saturday morning I awoke with a swollen eye, a tight chest, and a racing mind. Maybe I wasn’t having a stroke after all, but a heart attack. Turned out, I was just getting a bad sty.
So I spent the day treating myself with hot compresses and regular doses of Rescue Remedy. By noon, I was calm enough to spend a fairly normal weekend–although with somewhat diminished vision–and was able to resume my preferred stance for this whole endeavor: one of taking things as they come, and enjoying the whole process as an elaborate game. I even made it to my first ever auction Saturday evening and bought a couple of items that will look great in the new house, which, despite all impediments, I am able to envision more and more each day.
Boy was that fun! (the auction).
Sunday I assessed the damage to the “creek” and backyard by the recent rains. I had cleared the area of debris last month, but now it was strewn again with beer cans, plastic bags and enough Styrofoam cups to supply a week’s worth of AA meetings. I picked up a few of the recyclables, but didn’t see the point in clearing it all up when the next rain will just flood more garbage into my yard. A closer inspection of the creek shows that what looks somewhat natural, if pretty mucky, from a distance, is really a fairly man-made affair. The majority of what’s in there turns out to be bits of brick, pieces of tile, chunks of concrete, broken glass, twisted wire, shredded plastic, rubber, and corroded metal — not rock. It is so nice to know that the powers-that-be care so much about what I build near this “creek” I now steward, but not enough to have done anything to keep it clean over the past 50 years.
None of this seems to bother the birds, though. They were there, wildly alive in the trees.
An instant balm– a miracle of nature four blocks from Main Street.