06/03/2013 by syrbal-labrys
Yard work was accomplished on the weekend. The giant tomato plants are in tires against a sunny fence. More tomatoes are upside down in canvas bags. More seeds are planted and more potatoes in the ground. The new paver patio has more pots of flowers. The empty pallets were cut apart and a low shelf rests on the railroad tie edge, made of pallet hardwoods and awaiting enamel paint when the rain stops for more than a day or two. Now weeding and watering will be the daily tasks. And feeding the geese the remains. They like my weeding days more than I do. But weeding provides me time to think and sights like this poppy fallen onto the mulch path.
And Monday always needs some mind clearing time. Catching up on the news in the world is always a shocker, for one thing —it fills my brain with fears faster than I can drink coffee! And then, each weekend with my husband, as he works on his ptsd issues, leaves me dealing with behaviors of his long calcified and as difficult to bear as paper cuts and cedar splinters. My Sunday night dreams are always full of him, as he returns to the bedroom in the large house to prep for his early weekday exits to work. In my dreams, he is always slightly sweet, very distracted, and moving so slow in dream-sequences of crisis moments that I am filled with anxiety and frustration. It forces me to reflect on my OWN issues and I have to ask how far gone I might be? Have I got enough whatever it takes left to wait for his recovery, or am I so spent my own frayed nerves will blow me up in irritation?
This is the first month I cook our simple meals out here in the Haven; leaving the young couple to buy and cook their own food in the large house — they need the practice. And it feels like heaven to only be responsible for myself and him. He helps with cooking in my tiny kitchen. This is how tired I am of “mothering” anyone, isn’t it? Another sign of being out of emotional “gas” that I find the need to cook exclusively for three other adults, especially if they whine about wanting this or that, but never making a move to get it cooked for themselves and griped like children about onions, or mushrooms, or every third ingredient left to me in an allergic household entirely too onerous to continue.
Weekends still in ahead promise more paver work making a work area on the western edge of the vegetable garden, lots of muscle still required to change the visible world I live in; and while doing it I can take my inner tools to change the invisible in my head. Tinkering with dreams and aggravations, fine tuning my needs balanced against the needs of others, checking my wants for decadent attitudes and simplifying where-ever I can. But when the going gets toughest? There just might be more PB & J cakes in my future! I’ll satiate that needy inner child of mine and work my muscles to exhaustion, sleep and dream of something besides daily aggravations and emergencies!