So far, I’ve been to an art gallery, sat in on an interview with the CEO of a small company, learned how to make compost and sat in on an interview with an artist.
I saw an organic garden planted on the land that comes with a corner house and met a tiny, wrinkled, brisk old lady who was story in her own right. The house was airy and quiet, the garden sun-drenched and warm. There was canopy of plants, curling, climbing things on a wooded frame, that breathed a little freshness into the air and cut the humidity. I want one of those when I have a house. It was incredibly peaceful.
The lady had a philosophy, that successful growing comes from building a relationship with your plants and giving back at least as much as you take. And to be patient. She was sincere, and grounded, and very genuine, and I personally think this is as much a philosophy for life as anything.
The artist had a canopy too, but his was still in the stages of growing. He had a small canopy, a cherry tree in his small front yard, a square table and benches stained dark with varnish. He paints under the small porch just outside his front door. There, too, it is very peaceful.
I went out to watch Harry Potter with Li Ee. That was only last week, now that I come to think about it. Not five days ago. We wanted to watch The Proposal, both having read good reviews. But we were disappointed, for the papers had jumped the gun. So we went to watch Harry instead. Maybe it’s because I wasn’t in the mood for it, or maybe it’s because I’m one of those people who just can’t unsee the book scenes, but I was actually a little bored.
Old friends of the family came by, who I haven’t seen since I was a small child and who I barely remember. They were excellent company, though, and had wonderful stories to tell. And I can’t help but wonder, how does it work if you decide to make the world your home? Maybe, ultimately, it just doesn’t.
I’ve grown fond of the little things I write each day. Some brain lubricant is better than none. Although I am pretty sick of the Internet.
I played guitar one weekend until my fingers couldn’t take it any more. I was reminded that God is a prayer away, when I’m not too annoyed to reach for him.
I’ve moaned and groaned more than my fair share because life is slipping through my fingers and I’m not doing anything with it. When the future gets here I’ll have more things to do than time to do it in. I wish events were spread out a little more evenly. I don’t want to lose any more time.
I saw a rainbow.
Often I’m a whole bundle of misery and irritation. And I’m still unbalanced by the strangeness of it all.