that wasn’t exactly the kind of recovery day I thought I should be having. But here at this house, I feel like there is never an end to the things that need to be done. And the thing is, I really enjoy doing the things. If I didn’t, I probably wouldn’t.
So, I woke up with the sun this morning and went outside to greet the garden, see if anything new came up. After aerating the soil recently, the roses have been blooming a bit more, but the leaves are still a bit yellowed (a sign of too much nitrogen in the soil, the result of the previous owner shoveling sawdust all over the surface). The lavender has still been iffy as well. Better, but not what it should be.
I know this is terribly boring, but it’s a mini obsession for me at the moment.
So anyway, I decided that today was the day that I was going to aggressively turn the soil over – digging at least six inches into the soil, which is essentially 10-12 inches from the surface due to the ridiculous, suffocating layers of mulch that had been added over, I’m guessing, the last two to three summers. But since it was already about 80 degrees, and it wasn’t even 8 a.m., I knew that it would have to wait until late day. In the meantime, there was a trip to Whole Foods for …. Fresh Young Coconut….among other things (yay!!! They have FYC up here!!), a trip to Target for a multitude of miscellaneous items, including new bedding for the boys (black for Adam, because he asked me for a black room with skulls and crossbones, and there’s just no way I can do that, although I can certainly give him black sheets; maroon for Brian, because he asked me to paint his walls the color of Boston College’s basketball uniforms, and although I am considering it, it’s something that I can’t get to before the boys get home from camp) and a trip to a kitchen cabinetry store to have a look at some decorative elements for some of my cabinetry.
Wow, still boring. If you’re still reading, mea culpa. I’ll try harder next time. But for now….
By the time I came home, I was out of energy. I made myself a salad. The Husband went out for supper with friends of ours from Connecticut – our skiing friends. I sent my regards. There was no way I was sitting through a meal slathered in cover-up makeup and wearing Nicole Richie’s sunglasses. I went out to the back porch, took a trashy magazine with me, and enjoyed my salad – tuna, avocado, assorted greens, plum tomatoes, onions…not the sort of dinner that would be supportive of a yoga practice (onions are tamasic, and tuna is, well, flesh, and that is never a good thing for the yoga).
Five minutes after finishing my salad, lo and behold, my energy was back. The late afternoon sun was no longer blistering hot, and the garden beckoned. I took my pitchfork and my rake, and I set about searching for soil. It took me so long, it got dark before I finished. Ah, but when I was finished, it felt so right. I dug some holes to plant my mums and to tranplant my pumpkins and cukes, and the soil felt like….soil! Digging into it with my hands felt incredible (I was wearing gardening gloves) – soft, aromatic, deeply earthy. I had been wondering what the soil composition would be like – how much clay, how much sand. Turns out is very very high in clay. That sort of explains why the previous owners must have felt the urge to mulch the crap out o it. Mulch, when mixed into clay, will give help to “carbonate” it, literally. But the thing is, these people never mixed it in. They just dumped it on top, letting it fester for a year, and then dumped some more on, rinse, repeat. Honestly, it was fucking gross. And you know I don’t curse much. So imagine how bad it was.
Still boring, I know. I don’t think it’s going to get better either, since I have no contact with anyone I know (the black-eyes have put me into hiding) and no yoga. Although…gardening is a VERY good substitute for yoga. It kind of IS yoga in the sense that while you’re immersed in it, you become one with the thing you’re doing, and your annoying, chattery mind goes into a twilight sleep.
Oh, wait, I forgot. I will be seeing one person I know. Hopefully. Seems that Mrs. Laksmi is on the East Coast, and will be making a pilgrimage to the fair city of New York. I believe that we will be meeting up on Tuesday. That will be SO totally cool. I was a bit disappointed to hear that she did not bring Kundalinquist Barbie with her so that we could do some voodoo together. Ah well. I will have to settle for yoga voodoo from afar.
On Monday, I see my doctor, and not a moment too soon. I am practically sitting on my hands trying to keep myself from calling him to ask him stupid questions that I already know the answer to, like can I rip this stupid splint off yet? And does he know that a lot of physical activity is actually GOOD for draining the blood that pools under the eyes? Seriously. After all that digging and raking and tilling and farmering, I came inside and was shocked to see that a lot of the bruising had disappeared. In fact, all of the bruising over my left eye was gone. The right eyelid is still purple. That’s the side that had the blockage. Oh, and I want to tell him that everything I smell is tinged with the smell of my sutures and their matching Steri-Strips. It’s like what i would imagine it would be like to have a Band-Aid stuck on the tip of your nose all the time….everything would smell like rubber and gauze. Not so good for eating. On the other hand, it has put me in touch with the texture aspect of food. Because things either have no taste at all, or taste like I’ve got a wad of gauze and rubber mixed in, I find myself noticing the texture and mouth-feel of foods. So, today, when I was craving chocolate, I chose Toblerone, because it has those little chewy bits of nougat in it. Even though the chocolate isn’t so great, the nougat makes it interesting for my mouth.
Blah blah blah!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Here’s the thing I really signed on to say:
I LOVE IT HERE. At night, when all the lights are off, it is pitch black dark. The only lights being those from the moon and the stars. And it is SILENT. Sometimes I can hear the air conditioner, but other than that, totally silent. And I love it. I LOVE it. Living in the city was something that I started to want to do sometime during my first or second year of law school, when I was already living there for school (NYU Law). But up until that time, and I only began recalling this recently, I fantasized about being a country girl. Hair in braids, farmhouse decor, a little gingham when I want to be really cliched. So, this move I’ve made isn’t really such a departure. It is really a return.
I may not feel as in love with it when school starts, and the reality of suburban life sets in (even though my house is in the country, we are zoned for a very fine school district in a neighboring hamlet that, while also technically the country – large properties, very few stores within a 15-minute radius – has, supposedly, a very typical suburban feel to it….we shall see….especially since I don’t even know exactly what that means to be “typically suburban” or whatever). Lucky for me, I tend to fit into whatever context you throw me into. My kids too. So, it should be all good. It just might not be nearly as quiet and peaceful.
The husband still is very very homesick for the lovely concrete jungle we called home for so long. I miss nothing about it. Hopefully, he will allow himself to fall in love with this place. I really think it’s about being set in his ways, more than anything else.
Shifting gears again, back to the gardening thing (just warning you!), I have a meeting scheduled next week with a “Responsible Gardener”. I found him through the Town Hall, which encourages green and organic home and garden practices (as they should). He doesn’t believe in pesticides (except in extreme circumstances, like a wasp nest under the eaves, as we recently had), he understands about the nitrogen to carbon ratio that soil must maintain, he knows how to prevent soil erosion, he is mystified by the obsession with lawns, and most importantly, he focuses on growing what grows best locally and given the soil conditions. I think he can even help me with my composting practices. It’s not so easy the first time around. I think it gets easier when you see how the stuff you put in actually turns into compost. But for now, I’m sort of looking at the whole mess and feeling kind of punk’d.
I cannot believe it is past two a.m. And I’m going to be up with the sun again. I can’t help it. My body just WANTS to be. So unlike the way it was in the city when my body just WANTED to be asleep.
Kids come home Friday. I’m worried they’re going to hate not being at camp, which is like Kid Fantasyland.