Sometimes I do not care, or want to care. Right now I am too tired to care. My head spins. It hurts. Am I an apathetic person? No, I just need to rest. To have no cares in this weary world… That was my day on Friday. A headache from hell, and it finally subsided into the evening hours, and sleep swallowed it… The Memorial Day 3-day weekend was met with markets on Saturday and Sunday. I was at the spice shoppe, selling BBQ rubs and teas for pouring over ice this balmy weekend. Local folks and tourists searched for that missing ingredient to make their recipes more spectacular than the last. Dean went to two farmers’ markets this weekend. Not as busy, but just as excitable with the locals and tourists. By Sunday late afternoon, after I closed the shoppe I headed home to gather the food and dog for Dean and I’s first overnight at the greenhouse. Dean greeted me at Boone Hollow Farm as I drove the Jimmy in the upper field road rounding the bend, his smile and his hand waved me in. What a heavenly evening and night … just what I needed. The screenhouse had a cool breeze flowing through the mesh. The citronella candle glowed to ward off the bugs and make for an exotic ambiance. Frogs and crickets croaked and hummed throughout the night. We anticipated the howl of the local coyotes, but never did hear. Midnight, our big black labrador probably deterred their visit. The night sky was cloudy with flashes of lightning in the distant and few rumbles of thunder. No rain until later, but the raindrops sooth my busy mind into la-la land. Moonlight and the stars shined somewhere in the night as I recall waking for a few short minutes. Dean and the dog were restless. Finally my partner’s snoring chimed with the morning bird tweets just as the darkness slipped away. I managed to get back to sleep for a 7:00am rising. Dean slept for another hour while I read. We finished our camp stove sausage and egg breakfast with a piece of homemade strawberry-rhubarb coffee cake and hot hibiscus tea. And then the greenhouse became our work station. I cleaned terra-cotta pots, and potted our basil and dill. Dean worked on the structure and potted wandering jews into the coco-lined baskets. New edible and adorable plants for the market. Another storm was brewing, yet we waited for Grandpa’s visit before calling it a day. My uncle and aunt brought Grandpa to Boone Hollow Farm. My grandfather and uncle were well impressed with the struture Dean and I rebuilt. My artist aunt said the screenhouse would make the perfect studio. Yes, art in the making. My thoughts precisely. A quick visit, back in their vehicle just as the nickel-size drops came full force. An electric storm finished off our time at the memorable camping trip. But more about the evening of Memorial Day later … a bit of patriotic history in the family. So glad apathy does not reside more than a day. Too much to experience. Life is an adventure.
The ambiance and local menu tonight was colorful. My huge kitchen is decorated with vases of our cut flowers and the fireplace mantle is overcome by beautiful blue hydrangeas from my parents’ yard. Dean & I’s dinner plates were filled with roasted spring root veggies and beef farm fresh by friends who allow their cattle to graze in their farm’s natural pastureland. I sit on my patio listening to the evening chatter of the birds and crickets until the summer night sky is dotted with fire flies. I needed some beauty in my life today.
My feline companions bat at the moth and June bug on the patio screen hoping to get a hold of them. Celine and Lily will need to stay inside as the neighborhood Great Horned owl visits our tall backyard maple tree some evenings. This may be one of those evenings. We protect our animals from harm with barriers like screen doors. Maybe similar to how our God sets up boundaries for us. I take in the beauty of our green friends, the plants we care for everyday. Tonight I will not water or trim or plant. I will sit and enjoy the greenery. They endured the sudden hail storm yesterday. Our elephant ear , banana trees, and birds of paradise have ripped leaves now. These plants will come through after some shedding. Is not life like that? We get hammered by hard blows, unwarrantly and needlessly. Yet, we rise again to be ourselves, probably better people for it if we allow. Thank you God for the beauty my eyes behold tonight, and the reminder that the heart heals.