Look at that, 21 days have gone by since I have written here, and my fountain pen is cranky at having been neglected this long. I have to keep getting up to take it to the sink and run water over it to convince it to work like a proper pen should.
The on-line diary is the squeaky wheel and gets the attention every day. While you, my hard copy friend are left to languish gathering dust until this cool and windy night after our first heat wave of the season has been vanquished by the delta breeze. I’m planning on sleeping under the covers instead of on top of them tonight.
So many things were left undone today. I wanted to read more, do a little yoga, re-work a poem I have been struggling with, and study a bit of Hebrew. But what got done instead was a passable resume’, a substantial amount of garden work, an on-line journal entry and attending Kabbalah class.
I spent an hour and a half in the garden this morning. I pulled up some old spent plants and planted green beans, zucchini, and some birdhouse gourds. I also dug up two volunteer potato plants that sprouted from last years’ failed attempt at potato culture. And oh, you should see the potatoes! There are about 5 pounds of them, beautiful white skinned smooth Yukon Gold potatoes. There is nothing quite like digging in the dirt and finding baseball sized “apples of the earth” hiding there. It’s like digging up gold. We ate some of them for dinner, they were sweet and tender. There’s something unique about the taste of newly dug potatoes. You must grow some one day, and see for yourself.
Outside my little owl bell dings and chimes in the cool breeze. It’s a special bell with a truly lovely ring. It’s a little thing about the size of a small egg. I’ve had it for many years and am forever delighted by it’s sound. I still remember the day I bought it. I had gone to the feed store to buy some bedding plants and as I was standing in line to pay for my flowers. I bumped into this little bell making it ring. I turned around and gave it another bump to make sure I had heard right. Then I did something I very rarely do. I unhooked it from the display and carried it to the checkout person. I didn’t even ask the price, it wouldn’t have mattered. I wanted that little bell no matter what.
This impulsive act made quite an impression on me. The little owl bell is a symbol of the day I threw caution to the winds, spent money I hadn’t planned on, to buy something I didn’t really need. My bell and I have been friends ever since. I cannot tell you how many times it’s cheerful ding has made me smile. We were meant for each other !
It’s late now and I should get to bed. Lots to do tomorrow. Baking and cooking for Shabbat. And maybe I will get to that poem. And I am really going to try to do 15 minutes of yoga a day in addition to my two classes a week. The effects are so pleasant and worthwhile, I’d be a dunce not to work toward that goal.
I’ll take your leave now, sure in the knowledge that my dreams will be accompanied by the delightful sound of my little owl bell. How could I dream anything less than joyful dreams tonight ?