An August Morning

It’s five a.m. and I can hear the indistinct sound of my husband’s voice through the wooden floor as he makes his first of multiple television appearances of the day. The dogs are lying in various stages of indifference, one on the floor by my feet, the other by the door in hope that someone may chance to open it into the morning darkness.

My husband’s day will be insanely busy post-Wisconsin primary, and mine will also be work-filled, but mostly on my own schedule, except for Auggie’s much-needed chiropractic appointment this afternoon. And then, I think, we will have a small, but celebratory evening before collapsing into bed. We are feeling something strange and new this morning: Hope.

It has taken me a few days to settle in to a normal routine, because, true to form, I scheduled a busy weekend for myself upon our return from travels east, including both being a reader and singing a duet with our priest in church on Sunday. It was the first time I’ve sung in public in many years, and it was stressful.

The next few days will be mostly mine, however, and I need that. The dogs need it, too. Their persistent anxiety over our absence has been hanging over the past few days, both in their moods, and in Eli’s upset tummy. German Shepherds are not easygoing dogs who cheerfully accept change. They are deeply sensitive, and their feelings easily bruised, particularly by the departure of their people. I am being reminded once again why we have two, because, at least when we are gone, they have each other. But we are cancelling our plans to go away—just the two of us—at the end of the month. None of us feels like it, perhaps especially not the Germans. It’s good to be home together.

Gardening Soulmate, Joe, will be here again today. Monday we went shopping for perennials together, and he began the task of rebuilding the main perennial beds, which had some gaps which were being overtaken by weeds. Today he will finish that, while his nephew will continue work on the rock path and the sump drains. My dad always said that owning a house was primarily about making sure water went where it was supposed to go, and not where it wasn’t. This is a fundamental truth.

While we were gone, a massive tree went down, roots and all. One of the healthy ones. That will have to be cleared away, since it fell on the septic mound. Meanwhile, I’ve somewhat inadvertently opened a new landscaping front, so that’s another situation to attend to. There will be many astilbe and ferns. Luckily, I have enough ferns to transplant. I frequently envy people with neat little fenced-in yards that can be trimmed and completed. Our property is never finished. But, in a way, I suppose I enjoy that, too. The frustration is not being able to do everything that needs to be done, and always leaving some vital element in disarray, because I’m not able to do everything myself.

But, it’s a good day in Wisconsin, and for the moment, that’s enough.

Happy Wednesday!

These posts are about finding the beauty in daily life, even amid the craziness, uncertainty, and anxiety. Reality is not going away, but these are the only days we get, so we have to relish their small beauties while we have them. If you are a paid subscriber, please know how deeply grateful I am for your support. The kindness and enthusiasm of your comments buoy me and keep me writing, but the paid subscriptions are an extra vote of confidence I truly appreciate. These posts will always be free, however, so if all you can do is share, that is helpful, too. Whatever you decide, I’m glad you’re here.