Saturday, November 04, 2017

Yesterday Friday, Today Saturday

The garden gate was rebuilt. Like, a month ago. And even though it was desperately needed, it was in such a sorry state, I barely let it register that it was done, and pretty, and easy to open and close. I feel strange that I was indifferent. I feel strange that I still have only a foggy recollection of any of it, though I bought the lumber, the paint. It's sturdy, now. And white.

As I was preparing photographs for this post, I remembered that a pretty Queen Ann house in Oregon was supposed to go on the market this week. I met the owner, at random... she wants to move to the Big Island. Honoka'a. Kohala, maybe. Life is strange. Then, almost suddenly, I found myself engrossed in real-estate porn... glossy photos, tax records, square footage, built-in storage, all so alluring, affordable, even. I was in another state. I felt like a housing adulteress, my cheeks flushed, and I closed the browser.

Halloween is packed, and the house looks a bit bereft. It's like a holiday vacuum in here. Maybe this time, and these empty spaces are like an aperitif, something to cleanse the palette before we dive into our next fête.

I was going to confess about how neglected the garden beds are, about wanting to rebuild the soil, start over, and to remind myself that I have intended to plant bulbs and sweet peas for eight years... but, then I felt too tired to write about all of that, which doesn't bode well for the effort required to do more than write about gardening.

November Sky, day 3. I seem to have begun a daily sky picture, which I am keeping at Instagram. Others are playing at Gnomevember, and there was Inktober, last month. Last month. So soon, the ink's barely dry.

What is this tree with the odd mini-leaves that grow around the stems, between the larger leaves?

Here is our autumn, at the lagoon. It is dry, faded, going to seed. It may seem a forlorn thing to note the dwindling flowers, the falling leaves, but I like them. I like transition, the hopefulness of seeds, the muted shades under gray skies. There is a calm, restful appeal to this time of year.

Today's November Sky, a blue almost improbable. I stepped out this morning, looked up into the Torrey Pines, and had to reacquaint my senses with this brightness. So blue, it felt foreign, startling, and then I imagined that if we were in an upside down place, we could fall into the sky and swim.

Ha! A Gnomevember. And Chango and Cairo, Caturday.

With Infinity More Monkeys, a picture a day.


Cynthia said...

What is the gorgeous flower above the Torrey Pines picture?

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

My search found: Flowering Maple...
Someone left three blossoms on a memorial bench. It really is a vivid, striking flower.
It’s not growing on the trail, so it may be a special gift left for the person the bench honors.

nikkipolani said...

Oh, how I love that word Caturday! With roomie and I both gone during the day, the felines have been confined to the back of the house and I can feel their antsyness for Caturday.

Anonymous said...

I'm so sorry about your grandmother. She certainly knew how much she was loved and that's about the best thing to have at the end of a long life. Her family around her and now missing her - it's the right time to close her circle of life but never forget her love and life. Those we love live on in our memories. I hope Mister Foo has reappeared - sending you love and peace and acceptance of fate.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Caturday is a very good word. And cats are very good company.

Natalie, the Chickenblogger said...

Thank you. These are good words, and I really appreciate you reaching out to me... very much.