Thursday, May 29, 2014

Mucho trabajo


Since February the rainfall total in Seattle is over 22 inches, making it already the wettest February-July in Seattle's history of weather records.  Of course it isn't even July yet, so that's really saying something.

It rained again yesterday, but not enough to slow down the roofers so they should finish today.  Then we settle up (gulp) and clean up (sigh) and go on with our lives-- sort of. One project always leads to another, and now that fresh new wood needs to be painted soon.  Then the vacation season starts again, so it's shaping up to be another very busy summer.

Sometimes I look down at my poor little worn-out hands and instead of thinking "old and ugly" I try to send them thoughts of gratitude and love for everything they do for us.  And the peonies are blooming now, which makes up for a lot of pain and worry in life.  All too soon we will be "nothing forever," which is a line from this wonderful peony poem by Mary Oliver.

Scent Hive

This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready
to break my heart
as the sun rises,
as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers
and they open–
pools of lace,
white and pink–
and all day the black ants climb over them,
boring their deep and mysterious holes
into the curls,
craving the sweet sap,
taking it away
to their dark, underground cities–
and all day
under the shifty wind,
as in a dance to the great wedding,
the flowers bend their bright bodies,
and tip their fragrance to the air,
and rise,
their red stems holding
all that dampness and recklessness
gladly and lightly,
and there it is again–
beauty the brave, the exemplary,
blazing open.
Do you love this world?
Do you cherish your humble and silky life?
Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?
Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden,
and softly,
and exclaiming of their dearness,
fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,
with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling,
their eagerness
to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are
nothing, forever?

   

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