16 April, 2013

Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold

Some of my tiny seedlings growing under the grow light. I think most of those actual green things you see are some of the brassicas.

I have nothing good to report, other than the fact that we spent much of this past Saturday puttering around our yard. We cut down some weed trees behind the fence and pulled up about a mile (maybe even two miles) of honeysuckle and other strangling vines. We shredded leaves and mowed the grass and I planted a couple of seeds. We put in two new rose bushes (Tawny Tiger and Soaring Flight) and put manure around the old roses and dumped shredded leaves over any bare soil we found. It was glorious. Having a not too cold, not too hot day to work in the yard was some of the best medicine for my spirit. If I had known Monday was coming, I'd have done the same thing on Sunday.

Monday was horrible. First I had a day at work that left me feeling disspirited. Then I heard about the bombs at the Marathon in Boston. Then my dogs had a fight that left one with a bleeding toothmark right on his snout between his eyes. How in the heck did Punkin even bite him there?

Today I felt as though someone had boiled me. Do you ever feel that way? So tired and dazed that you feel as though all the energy has been pummelled out of you, leaving you weak, bruised, and wilted. I felt that way. I felt that while I was at the doctor having my yearly lady check-up. Good times that. I am glad it's over and that once I get my mammogram I can put all that lady goodness behind me for another year.

I am not sure Morgan is going to work out for our family. He is so anxious and spends most of the time we are all together pacing and growling at us. Not growling AT us, just growling at us to get our attention. He wants us to...to what? Well, first, to feed him, because he's always ready to eat. Then, I guess just to get our attention. He's not happy with us patting him while we read or compute or watch tv. He wants something else...what I'm not sure. I think he wants more than we are able to provide, whatever it is.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he and Punkin will bury the hatchet (not in each other, I hope) and learn to tolerate each other and he will relax and stop being so damn needy. Truthfully, right now I myself feel so anxious and frazzled, that I may not be thinking all that clearly about him. I wish he would just lie down next to me and let me pat him and shut up with the damn whining.

I am praying for Boston, and Morgan, and the world, and a bit for myself. I plan to spend as much time as possible this week with my fingers in the soil, looking at green and tender things. It's one of my weaknesses that I look at the glass as half empty (and probably cracked and filled with poison) but I am trying to have faith that there is more good in the world than bad, that "the helpers" are stronger than the destroyers, and that we are not all in a handbasket accelerating towards hell.

1 comment:

  1. Anxious dog, anxious owner. The two of you are probably rubbing each other raw. I'm sorry that you are struggling through this. If it's any consolation, I have faith in you.