Every day I walk around the property I'm moved by something
I see or experience. I want to share it with my partner. But something happens
between the time I get from the outside to the inside that just pushes whatever
it was right out of my head. Now I'm
usually walking around the front or back yard because I have Molly with me.
She's on a leash that allows her to run.
It took a week of using the new leash before she figured out she could
run away from me, at least for a short distance, but now that she knows she goes
and frolics and cuts corners all the time.
This brings fresh views of the property that I might not normally have
in my ambling, knees sore and aching making my way around here. Usually there's a delight in store for me
because of her running or short of that, a feeling of being replenished just
from being outside with her.
We're growing moss here. The slow growth of moss keeps me at
the weeds because they're faster and I'm rooting for the moss to keep on
keeping on. It's soft to walk on and feels as if you're sinking into the earth.
I don't think Molly notices this or even cares for the moss but when she whips
me past the garage and the gap in the fence I'm onto moss land and it's really
sweet. I know I'm low maintenance and I
know most people hear about or read about or even live simply - Molly and I get
right down to that on these walks. I get the sweet green enveloping me and
chasing away work and my to do lists and Molly gets to roll in the dirt
patches. That's her thing. Frankly, I
can't figure that one out because I thought cats liked to be clean.
Last week we had more morning glories growing in the front
and on the back trellis than we had all summer. The woman at the local produce
stand told me that growing just stops in the high heat. We had enough of that this summer to ruin a
lot of crops and put a halt to a lot of growing. Now, even though we're into
October the petunias in the back have returned in two beds. Trust me when I
tell you these were emergency beds made on the run when I ran out of space on
the front porch and the window boxes put a halt to any more plants. Quicks settlements of petunias were made
wherever I saw a depression in the soil near the back trellis. The trellis cuts
our yard in half but pretty much at an angle that gives us a yin/yang
division. The garage, painted milk
chocolate, captures beautiful shadows cast by the trellis and trees. The
trellis nearly reaches the garage on one side and on the other it is shy of the
oak tree in front of the compost bins. That's the set up. Molly has learned
that I can't fly under the trellis the way she can and obliges my inability by
careening around the garage corner when she wants to get on the other side of
the yin/yang.
I was wondering which side of the back yard is yin and which
is yang. But it seems like that might change from the beginning of the day
toward the end. Right now the far side of the trellis hardly has any dappled
light and the close side by the screen house does. I'm in the screen house
right now which makes me sitting on the yang side. Molly is here with me and
wants to get out. She's yearning for the yin because everything that's calling
to her is on the other side of the yard. That's where the squirrels are right
now, rumbling about, scrambling and digging at the ground burying acorns. From where I'm at I can see the petunia
that's white with a little purple between the petals. All summer these flowers
were purple whirly whigs with just a little white between the petals. It's fall
now and everything is changing. Molly's
coat is thickening. I hope I can
remember how this wind feels right now. It's so beautiful. The wooden wind
chimes agree. The jays are calling from one yard to the next; I think there's
actually three yards involved. It feels a little like summer just now. Summer
away from the beach or just home after swimming in the ocean. Molly is settling
into a nap even though it's late afternoon.
What a good idea.
