'Sweeping the path'
I made this path.
I made this path.
Today, while sweeping it
I saw moss on stones
and dappled sunlight.
Angle of the sun
and a curving path.
The right moment,
just waiting
for me to
find
it.
256
A good sleep last night,
the last for several nights to come.
Early morning, sitting at my desk.
A cool breeze through the open door
whispers around my right shoulder.
Later the wind will be easterly and hot,
but in this moment I take delight in my
chilled right shoulder.
A week to come of hot nights and searing days.
I will crave the deep green hedgerows,
rain, mist and cold white snow of where once I lived.
the last for several nights to come.
Early morning, sitting at my desk.
A cool breeze through the open door
whispers around my right shoulder.
Later the wind will be easterly and hot,
but in this moment I take delight in my
chilled right shoulder.
A week to come of hot nights and searing days.
I will crave the deep green hedgerows,
rain, mist and cold white snow of where once I lived.
254
Leaf
I am sick of bloody leaves. I have raked and bagged and raked again. They are a fire risk, so I am out in our half acre every day filling huge 295 litre leaf sacks, which Alchemist takes to the tip at the weekends. The Shire (council) then shred the leaves and local residents buy the mulch to spread on their gardens!
I have lost my Zen and the art of garden maintenance, but did notice this leaf. I was merciful and let it stay.
253
Morning
Bedroom window open.
Bedroom window open.
Looking through,
I watch for his return.
I watch for his return.
He walked with Dog today,
so I wait for both
to stroll back down the road.
A magpie splashes in the bird bath,
Leaves drift down from trees.
A good moment
to just
sit.
sit.
Ah, here they come...
252
Today at 5.30am I went back to the pool.
A clear blue sky, water that glittered and a lane to myself.
Eight lengths completed. I am pleased.
Driving home, I sang all the way.
Happy Christmas and a Peaceful New Year
to one and all.
251
Dusk
From the kitchen window.
The weather is warming up in Australia, so I close all curtains during the day. Our house remains cool and the air conditioner dormant. As the temperature drops I open curtains, windows and doors again, allowing cross breezes to air the house. Tonight, I was greeted by a pink sky, trees in silhouette and the laughter of Kookaburras. (click on link to see and hear these birds).
248
Books and pictures
Every book read and in most cases read again.
Only one defeated me. I surrendered after two chapters.
247
The essence of ordinary things
- Elastic bands from the mail, on a hook in the pantry door.
- Chalk for the shopping list blackboard, by the ceramic water filter.
- Library books, on the little shelf under the rock and fossil collection.
- Reminder notes, on the kitchen counter.
- Dog leads, on the 'dog tail' hook by the front door.
- Hats for the summer, by the back door, front door and in the ute.
- Swimming things in the french basket.
- Incense sticks in the wooden jewellery box Pop made me in 1967.
- Silver rings in the abalone shell that P. bought back from NZ.
- Hand cream, kitchen window sill and the coffee table drawer.
- Earrings in woven baskets on a shelf in the bathroom.
- Precious (to me) jewellery in a marquetry tea box from J.
- Love letters, in a printer paper box, hidden away.
- Pencils in the green hand thrown pot made by P.
- Reading glasses, shoulder bag and bedside chair.
- Three silver beans in small pale blue felt bags.
- Computor cables that 'nest' in corners.
- Letters to be answered, in the green ceramic bowl.
- Candles in a small three drawer chest from Japan.
- Bills under the tiny pestle and mortar from H.
- Nan's art deco tea service in the crystal cabinet.
- Shopping bags in an old basket in the kitchen.
- Sewing projects in a linen bag hanging on my armchair.
- Books on shelves.
- Walking boots, next to the dog bed in the hall.
- Magazines to keep, in a box my my desk.
- Loose leaf tea in small japanese canisters in the pantry.
- Garden shoes by the backdoor.
- Rock and pebble collections on a shelf under the mirror.
246
Here I am testing out my new bed cover. Shewhofeedsme made it. I bet She thinks I won't get up on her lap anymore. Excuse me while I take a minute to ponder on that...
244
He knew I would dismantle the bouquet,
I could hear his smile as he spoke on the telephone.
A ginger beer bottle of gum leaves on the window sill,
A ginger beer bottle of gum leaves on the window sill,
a rusting tin of wattle on the kitchen counter,
an old Bovril jar of waratahs and a protea
on the coffee table.
on the coffee table.
241
Blue glass, sunlight and freesias.
The sun came out as I started washing dishes, so the morning boded well.
240
See that green dog bed? It's by the window and next to the fire. The perfect spot to check out any enemies (like the postman) approaching the house, to bark at parrots and growl at next door's cat. The perfect place to be on top of the fire. Dog looked at it, looked at me, put a paw on my foot and I gave in.
234
No surgery required, for which I am grateful.
Long term patience necessary.
I have a 'frozen shoulder'.
I am in the right age bracket for such.
Celestone and local anaesthetic injected into the glenohumeral joint.
I felt it touch the bone.
He told me that my condition could last for two years
(Thankfully one year has passed).
I asked him when I could swim again,
he smiled but would not be drawn on a date.
Next appointment in a month.
So, no swimming... yet.
I WILL get back to it.
Instead, Dog and I walk our little socks off.
233
I discovered swimming late in life.
I found a moment for me at the local outdoor pool.
At 5.30 am, I would be there.
Two laps to warm up, eighteen to stretch and feel the 'zen'.
Flowing with the water, mind blank, eyes closed.
Just me and the water.
Up turn and back. Up turn and back.
Then my left shoulder sparked bright white pain.
I was told to stop swimming.
I had an examination by ultrasound.
Months of physio exercises.
A perfectly placed cortisone injection.
No relief.
I give in.
I want to swim again.
I need it.
Today I talk with a surgeon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)