Sweet Taste of Summer

The weekend I promised myself begins with sleeping myself out. I've not been sleeping well since I moved and wonder if the disruption has disrupted my sleep. Or if it's something else. It's a beautiful day and I long to be outdoors, and I will be, but I also want to do a few things around the house. So I move from space to space, doing a little here, doing a little there. The sheets are in to wash, two shelves in my closet are organized, the bathroom cabinet has the beginnings of organization. As I find more things to go there, they have somewhere to go. The dishwasher is emptied and the dishes that have been waiting are stacked neatly there. The dish drainer is empty and refilled with fresh dishes. Ice cube trays are refilled. Cherries drain in my pottery berry bowl. 

A sweet taste of summer.

I have a list for the store and new bags for trash and things to donate. I set a mental note to clear all the surfaces and put things away before opening a new box. To put away what I packed in tote bags for the move. This drove my daughter crazy.

"You have too many tote bags, Mom. Let's get them down to ten," she said.

"No way," I thought to myself. I may even have said it. With my eyes if not with my voice.

I like to organize things in tote bags. I have all my important documents in one. If there's a fire, I know which bag to grab in the crisis. I have all the workshops I lead organized in tote bags. When it's time to go, I know which bag to grab as I head out the door. My grocery bags are neatly folded in a tote bag. My extra tote bags are neatly folded in another. It works for me. 

There are plants in the garden waiting to be dug into the flower bed. Plants waiting to be planted in containers. It seems as if everything is waiting for me to do something. Fortunately, my things are patient. Still, I feel the pressure. Get it done. Get it done. Get it done. I war with myself. Most of me wants to move through this part of things contemplatively. To notice what new birds land in my garden, to watch the critters eat the grass, which new flowers are coming up in the flower bed. There are still surprises. To make sure I'm noticing when the dill begins to flower and snip that away. I still want to harvest fresh dill for my meals. The basil will begin to flower soon, and I want to have space to notice. 

The morning glories begin to peek over their container. Soon they'll grow from sprout to vine and stretch themselves out along the fence before blooming. I will enjoy having someone wish me a good morning again. 

Inside, on the windowsill, the orchids continue to bud, blossom, and gather their flowers for what seems an endless show. It's almost a shock when they fall. The succulents aren't doing so well. I'll research which houseplants prefer indirect light. Sometime, when there's time, and space, I'll make some changes. 

It's midday, and half my garden is in full sun, half in shade. That seems to be the way with my garden, It's just that different parts of the garden are in sun or shade in different parts of the day. There's always a shady spot in which to sit and read, or a sunny spot if I want that.

The sky is clear and bright blue. Yesterday's storm brought milder temperatures. It's past noon and only 79 degrees. I slept through the cool of the early morning. I'd like to get up and enjoy that tomorrow. There's a breeze and everything green is caught up in it. I imagine it brushing up against the herbs and filling my garden with fragrance. 

Tomorrow Has Become Yesterday 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.