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Part of these were to shore up my tomato plants (11 of 12 of which are still alive); the remaining staves were driven by the black beans to give them something to climb up. Tying the tomatoes up was itself an adventure, as the attachment material I had was sufficient but cutting the lengths turned out to be a bit of an adventure.
It was only me in the garden that evening, pushing and cutting and tying (and occasionally muttering to myself, cutting a new length, and trying again) followed by watering. The evening was coolish and crisp, the noise low as - due to the holiday - people were out doing other things rather than driving through local neighborhoods on their way to something else.
Blessedly mosquito freely, I stood in the falling darkness with the hiss of water through the hose my only companion.
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More and more, I find that such moments and such things are ones that I have to make and preserve for myself.
The world, with its news, social media, entertainment - none of this provide this anymore. And once upon time, at least for me, I could find such moments there. But not any longer: without a great management of what one sees and what one follows, elements of what has become a social "free-for-all" in all the worst ways is constantly before one.
More than ever, it is left up to us to provide ourselves with this moments - these Golden Little Things - to preserve the light for ourselves. And I confess, I find myself in need of them more than ever.
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And so I have become a collector of The Golden Little Things: a rabbit tearing back and forth in the early morning in my living room, a cat sleeping on the top of a couch in the sun, (or on me, weighting me down), a video clip of a garden railroad or rabbits on social media, doing Iai in the failing evening light, the sight of plants popping through the soil that I had sown there.
I find them too in the things that I have now: the book that I unexpectedly remember (or "mysteriously" comes in the mail), the shirt or vest I love to wear, boots in general, the ability to sit on a balcony with a glass of wine and a book, moments of God I did not expect to have but appear none the less.
I put them away in soul and memory, guarding against the encroaching darkness of a world where - from almost every side - I no longer fit in nor am worth trying to fit in, more and more a monolith of another time fading into the evening as I watch the world hurtle by while I seem frozen in time.
One such Golden Little Thing happened whilst typing this TB, a loon calling off in the distance, perhaps arriving/leaving the nearby lake. Being in an urban area it's too noisy for them to nest so just an occasional stopover heading elsewhere. That's a call that is unforgettable. Becoming more observant and recognizing The Golden Little Things......aye....there's the rub.
ReplyDeleteNylon12 - We had the same experience yesterday morning as a flock of geese we could not see called as they flew overhead, heading somewhere.
DeleteI have never heard a loon call that I am aware of, but everyone writes that they are very memorable.
Eleven tomato plants sounds pretty aggressive, even by my standards. You will be busy if you plan to preserve some of their bounty.
ReplyDeleteAlthough I don't often recognize Golden Little Things in the moment, I do try to reflect upon my day when writing in the journal and write them down.
Ed, the counter to 11 tomato plants is that they are all shaded for probably 50% of the day. I got mine in very early; my plot neighbors who got theirs in later are doing much better.
DeleteLike you and Nylon12, I am trying to be better about noticing such things.
Golden Little Things... beautiful picture. A trusted friend and I meet once a week for a couple hours. Our Biblical questions and observations are the highlight of the time. I look back during the week savour and reflect.... and anticipate the next meeting... Such a pleasure. The digital detox during my hospital stay is holding. Not a lot of news input anymore, or blogs for that matter. Most of that became noise... I'd rather listen for a loon. ;)
ReplyDelete"I look back during the week savour and reflect.... and anticipate the next meeting.." That is it exactly, Nylon12.
DeleteCongratulations on holding to your digital detox. I continue to slowly pull away; I am down to one news-related website on a periodic basis (glad you are still here at this blog!).
My expiration date still isn't published. Only the Father knows the date and the hour. :D
DeleteSTxAR - All I ever hear in the back of my mind is a giant clock, ticking.
DeleteYou got me thinking about the “Goldies…lovely memories evoked by this post and the readers’ comments. Walking into a forest up north, after a light rain and getting almost knocked over by the smell of pine. Late Fall witnessing a flock of birds doing their group “dance”. The flock was so huge and close overhead I felt vibration from their energy. Watching a flock of geese comically trying to land on a frozen pond.
ReplyDeleteI’ll grab a favorite book that I know offers that “golden” feeling including the Little House series, or other “gentle” fiction. A couple of my favorite non-fiction books that spectacularly pulls one into the author’s natural environment, and absorbs my thoughts completely, are Indian Creek Chronicles by Pete Fromm, and Winter by Rick Bass. I need to revisit a hobby (knitting in my case) that used to keep me enthralled for hours before You Tube and all that diverted my attention.
Also, the movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (40th anniversary of it now) taught me a valuable lesson when it first came out. As young Ferris said to his friend “You gotta take time out to smell the roses”. I took my first fake sick day from work after watching that movie.
AnonJ - It is funny to me how once I start down this path how many "golden memories" appear in my mind - interestingly, very few of them have to do with are my now daily tasks. Many of them involve Nature or books or moments stolen in the midst of living.
DeleteI remember that line from Ferris Bueller as well. That movie - and that sentiment - seem so very far away from where I am right now - but the roses are still there, waiting to be enjoyed.
This is excellent advice, TB. I think nature naturally lends itself to calm, as long as one can focus on the moment. I think maybe it's all about where we focus our attention.
ReplyDeleteLeigh, I wrote in my journal this morning about how much fractured time (and attention) exists in my life at the moment and how that leads to a loss of focus and calm. I need to consider this more deeply.
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