Topsy Turvy

Home after a really good few days away.

Spent an evening with my brother and my niece. Spent an evening with friends from high school. Spent a morning in a coffee shop, writing. Enjoyed mild, albeit humid, days and only a little rain. Spent time in the family home. It still nourishes.

Ate out a lot. Sushi for dinner one night. A sandwich from my favorite neighborhood deli for lunch. A phenomenal steak salad at Clyde's, a cocktail, and a few bites of key lime pie. Brought several jars of my roasted red pepper soup, some coconut yogurt, local honey, and nuts. Brought a lot of food home, and stopped at the store on the way for more Cocoyo and red pepper soup fixins. Chicken wings. Forgot one thing, so I won't make the soup til tomorrow. It's nourishing me in ways I don't understand but definitely will take. 

Cut the last rose of the season in my mother's garden, and the last three black-eyed Susans. Left them in a small vase near my parents' photograph. Cleared away the spent blossoms from my last visit. There is not a bud to be found in the garden, but the hips are forming and everything is wonderfully wild and overgrown. Feral. 

Bravely got my act together this morning and left early to avoid the worst of the Friday beach traffic. A friend asked why I don't wait and go Saturday. There's beach traffic Saturday too ~ the folks who go down for week-long rentals. Besides, I have plans this evening. More time with friends. Good friends nourish.

I arrived back here just about two hours ago. Had the last of the soup and a salad, a few glasses of sparkling mineral water. I feel like I want something sweet. It's emotional, of course. Being with friends this evening will bring sweetness. The yellow tulips in the blue glass vase on my kitchen table do as well. There are a few dishes to wash and chicken wings to get into the oven and things to put away. I close my eyes, here at the keyboard, and take some breaths. Slow things down. Feel the air from the ceiling fan on my skin. 

The drive back had some maddening moments. Altogether four hours, with the quick stop at the store. It used to be a two and a half hour drive. Now, it's three hours on a good day. So much construction. So many crashes. So many drivers who forgot their manners during Covid. Everyone is in a hurry. 

I downshift and slow way down. 

There's a big work project to finish tomorrow. I'll set myself up and knock it out in a few hours. Make the soup. Do some reading. Think more about my sermon. It's Joseph, provoking jealousy among his brothers. They throw him in a pit and sell him to slavers headed for Egypt. A threshold story. It leads to a new expression of the larger story. A new expression of a people. An invitation to death transforms into life for a community. Everything is topsy turvy, but somehow the road winds back around. 

Funny how that happens.

The Green Wilderness is a daily writing practice that opens a landscape of discovery into my own human experience. Katherine Cartwright has been blogging since 2012, and each year brings new wonders. She asks big questions of the small things in life.

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