What it Is in Everyday Ramblings

From our walk on Saturday. So cheerful. We chose a neighborhood we know well, that is flat with bluff views of the river and a fun array of front gardens. We were trying to figure out how to pronounce the Sharon in Rose of Sharon (there are two gorgeous big bushes full of the pink to purple blooms variety on our route) when we came across a woman our age sitting on her front porch reading a paper who had the more typical white one with the red center.

We stopped and chatted. It was a lovely conversation. She is a nurse, now up where I used to work. She has this rhododendron that she has pruned in this beautiful way so you can see the foliage to its best advantage, and she is very proud of her hydrangeas. It turns out she agrees with me about drug use and not being judgmental about the users but to focus on harm reduction. It warmed my heart. These are the folks we don’t hear from much in the media.

It has been months since Mrs. Sherlock, and I have walked. We took it easy. It was the perfect area to take it easy in as we were visiting old friends. The dwarf pomegranate trees, the overgrown corner place with the bird feeders everywhere and things going to seed. The blueberry bushes and the maniac rose gardener with a whole row of plants displaying the biggest boldest rose hips we have ever seen. Someone growing roses for the hips not the flowers.

And there was horsing around with Frieda. It was overcast and cool and we were both more energetic than usual of late. A huge branch with red apples was down from the gnarled old tree in the overlook park we saw that guy carving a heart and initials into back in April.

The guy I had a hissy fit about. Both Mrs. Sherlock and I felt there was a sad kind of retribution in that branch down and the apples squashed and scattered.

We talked about how tree illiterate we still are and wandered through the little pocket triangle park with the impressive massive London Plane trees. We still don’t know the names of most trees. I wouldn’t know a Linden if it bopped me on the head. I know there is one in the park across the street though.

The tomatoes are coming fast and furious. And as of yesterday, I have identified all the fruiting plants in my plot. It is pretty much an accident I got such a nice mix of types. I feel a bit like this difficult gardening year is redeeming itself at the tail end.

Yesterday was the wrap up to the 7-week subtle core class. We did a lot of the practices we learned in succession and I am appropriately subtly sore today. I get a week’s break and then we move onto the nuances of balance and fall prevention. I learn these tiny nuggets of information in these classes that are quite helpful in my teaching and unlike all the other classes I am taking I am being watched and given feedback. It helps keep me focused as a teacher.

On Sunday we had the old guys’ book club. They spent a fair amount of time talking about Elvis. But when I mentioned having read Ancestor Trouble we had a fascinating discussion about adoption. Personal stories came out of that, one really positive and a few complicated and sad. We also talked about Dick Tracey and Station Eleven and difficult Russian novelists and our current relationship to them.

It is back to being almost unbearably hot again and this evening is a flex event from the power company. I shall unplug everything and read a book in the fading light. I am a little grumpy about our power company not maintaining one of our wind farms out in the gorge and then asking us to cut back on usage during peak demand times, but it is what it is…

Funny how I sat down to read 750 Words and wrote this instead. Hmmm.

Last updated August 30, 2022