LAKE MACBRIDE— The box of seeds from last season sat on the workbench for months. I brought it inside to begin garden planning—something I am loathe to do. In fact, I’m still thinking about mowing the lawn one more time before winter really gets here. After all, it is forecast to be in the forties next week… I can’t give it up.
Like it or not, time passes and the seasons with it. I need to let go of what did and didn’t get done this year and begin planning for 2015.
Right after I put up the holiday decorations.
Yesterday, a reminder of life’s fleeting nature arrived as Mother was admitted to the hospital after suffering severe pain in the night. The physicians and specialists are attempting to diagnose what happened and what risk it may pose. Our small family is on watch as they do their work.
That our plans don’t always work out as we thought is a given. That I will continue to plug away at making the garden more diverse and productive represents hope. Hope that life will continue in some semblance of what it has been during my years on the planet.
Quixotic? I don’t think so. Utopian? Maybe a little. Idealistic? Yes, definitely. While the idealism of youth get burnished with experience, there is a basic urge to go on living. Should we lose that, all hope would be gone.
In a turbulent world, with its cacophonous voices, we go on living. Some days are better than others, but there is always hope that this year’s garden will be better than last, and will sustain our lives–at least for a while.