yesterday evening as i was working in the yard, what looked and felt like a storm coming [dark clouds and high winds], instilled fear in me that the tree would fall before the man got here- or i got the mower in the shed and myself in the house. had it not been 4th of july weekend he would have come sooner. again, it looks like a storm is brewing. thunder rumbles; it looks dark & cooler outside; all seems right with the world, except for the looming paranoia that the tree might flatten both the house and me. so now the vigil. the wait...
i woke and let the cats out, made coffee and decided to stay awake, although i'd rather not. in sleep and work lie the only real peace i ever get- and 4 hours sleep is never enough. there is fog on the windows from the AC; but the day's eventual heat will change that. i turn the ceiling fans on low for now. i hear the sound of a train, in the distance, way past my woods, over by the river. a sound i have heard most of my life. a comforting sound. the sound of home. my roots. my anchor in this uncertain life.
for the past several days, after weeks of complaining about the 100F+ heat, i have been waking late [around 2PM], guzzling coffee & chicory, chain smoking samson tobacco, writing in my journal [as therapy] until 4 or 5PM, then when its cooler, heading out to the yards and gardens to get much needed work done; working till dark, doing as much as i can. it's been a mania; can depression be far behind? for anyone who knows me the answer is yes. like my creative manic phases, this too shall pass...
having lost my father and my mother, one of my oldest & closest friends, and our next door neighbor, ALL in this year, thus far, 2011 has proved to be a sad and dark one. it has not been easy to function; it has not been easy to do even the simplest things, at times. it has been a struggle to get up and put one foot in front of the other and go forward; sometimes that's not even been possible. i've found myself isolating- staying home, only going out when absolutely necessary; mourning and grieving alone, in silence and solitude, and only being able to 'work through the process' OF grieving by working.
as i have done since her death, i labor in honor of my precious mother; who spent so much of her life working on this land; and whom i feel connected to, when i do the same. she spent decades fighting back this jungle; tending and cleaning all this acreage: mowing, trimming, cutting, chopping hauling, burning, into her 90s. she was amazing, going out in the middle of the day or earlier, even in summer; working, sweating, until dark, or until she was 'give out'. her work, her love of flowers, nature & order is evident everywhere i look. i tend her plants, many that she rooted and or grew from cuttings, see her wind chimes & tree ornaments, 'see' her 'in my mind' on her mower w/her straw hat, and through SO many things here, which evoke memories, i feel her presence.
i also feel connected to my father- whose father built the family home which i bought in the early 90s after my grandmother [his mother] died. i also see and feel his presence in it [which he helped me work on, as did my late brother] but i also think of him working in his yards and gardens into his 90s. i remember him fishing out a huge cypress tree trunk from lake d'arbonne & making a picket fence from it- alone & in his late 70s!-which went around his whole yard! and it was a BIG yard.
my parents were unbelievably strong; both hard workers, and never happier than when they were working. i think that's why they lived so long. they were tough. a different generation. i often think i do not have their strength; but thinking of them, as i go through my day, outside on this sacred [to me] family land, working, i feel their strength, as i remember them, which propels me forward.
it has not been easy- nor has it been easy to balance home and career for the past years- it is even harder now. i realize for the last 2+ months i have been in 'suspended animation', according to the pamphlet hospice left me. i feel unsure of the future, unable to grasp being alone, OR of being free to do what i want when i want. unsure even of what i want, anymore. freedom is not always what you think it will be.
i look in the right corner of my laptop and see it's 10:20- and i think of my friend, edmund who is also gone [he & dennis had a thing about 10:20] - i think of him [and so many other friends & family who have gone on] almost daily; especially when i see dragonflies or mushrooms [which he often painted] in the yard. there are always so many reminders of my loved ones everywhere. as my cousin donna says, "love lives on..."
i go peep out the kitchen windows to check the weather [since i have 'aluminum foiled' all unshaded windows for the summer] and see the emerald green of all the plants and grass outside, see my two gardens, my pond, my forest; then my patio container garden, the newly potted herbs, vegetables, fig plant; mama's wind chimes & tree ornaments swaying; grandma's [my] house across the way, and feel a sense of protection and a sense of place.
thunder rumbles again. the only other sounds are the whirring of my late aunt vera's vintage floor fan- and an occasional car passing on the road. i light another cigarette, sip more coffee, wonder if i should call the tree man, but doubt he'll come today.
barbra, the cross eyed cat is sleeping on my bed; on one of the vintage chenille bedspreads i got from my friend debbie [to replace 2 i bought in new orleans ages ago, and stupidly sold in a garage sale]-and i am tempted to crawl back in bed with her, sleep and let trees fall where they may... it's in god's hands anyway.
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| mama's daylilies |
