See How My Garden Grows

We're in the height of summer now. I can tell because it gets more and more difficult to fully close doors, our home swelling with the humidity as I imagine it has done for the last 150 years. I saw the sunrise this morning, in my quest to restore my body and mind to some semblance of its better, prior state. The idea that I would see the sunrise for such a purpose seems laughable, belonging to an entirely more responsible individual. In my heart, I am a night owl and I struggle daily to fight against my primal nature. Generally, I succeed and I return to the start of my day, sweaty and flushed with victory, even if it means I will be a bit weary later on.

There's both movement and stillness to my summer, but not as much fun as I had planned. This focus on health feels so boring and yet, I know I will reap the benefits later on. It seems so simple in the beginning, pop a pill, move on with your life. But then it's weeks of getting the right dosage, teasing apart the symptoms that belong to something else. Then I'm waiting for test results, waiting to find out if I have thyroid cancer. I don't, but it's a strange, suspended state, that waiting. I've been here before. I'm always lucky. I feel relieved, then immediately guilty for all those who aren't, who weren't. I move on, one foot in front of the other. 

I don't cook much at the moment. I keep it simple. I've even learned to skim the most pleasurable of experiences, dipping just a toe into that pleasure instead of diving in. That part is not as hard as I'd thought. But I've had to shut off that creative part of my brain, the part that thinks about pairings of flavors and trying something new.  I will be able to return to that one day. But for now, I let it recede. 

I continue to make paper flowers. It is the most soothing thing I do. When it's been a few days without a new creation, I begin to feel a little anxious, wound up. I sit in quiet, I make, and balance is restored. My garden is growing. One day I will train it, allow the creations to take forms, but I don't need it yet. The tangled growth is fine. Let it be. 

On occasion I wander at night, my camera in hand. I am a voyeur, always after that glimpse of life through windows and in doorways. I love the shadows, the unexpected hits of light, the empty places after the fun dies down. Those moments, they are a gift to my primal nature. Then I go home, wake with the sun, and move on, one foot in front of the other.  Soon, it will be fall.

 

Comments

[Suzonne]

Shalagh, if I had a toddler to take care of, I think my life might completely implode. You do so very much - and you're awesome. The more difficult aspects of parenting will pass soon...you know, until you're dealing with teenagers. Ha!

[Suzonne]

Thank you, Catherine, for your kind words and for always being so supportive. Your kindness does not go unnoticed!

[Shalagh Hogan]

Well first, thank goodness you are well. And no need to feel guilty about that. Your boy needs you.
I know how it is to need the creative jolt. Sometimes only an edited phone photo posted to Instagram is what I get in a day. That can be enough. And yes, I am there with you waiting to be "there" again. Waiting to get back to being more you.
I want to see your pictures. Some of my favorites were your stalking around with your friend at nighttime in the Quarter in B & W.
We've started our no white diet again. And my hip keeps slipping slightly out of place sending me to the Chiropractor now over and over. It hurts to take care of my need to exercise. The baby is throwing me off in mental and physical ways. This too shall pass.
And don't get me started about abandoned gardens.
I am so glad to hear you are still there. Even if it's just enduring to an extent.
Love to you and yours,
Shalagh

[Catherine]

What a beautiful piece of writing. You have touched my heart tonight. Glad to hear of your diagnosis (or lack thereof) and sending peaceful, healing thoughts your way.