Today I discovered that our woodland wildflowers aren’t blooming yet, but I did see some spring bulbs in flower this morning. I was happy to see the delicate blue and white petals of Puschkinia, a flower which blooms so early in the season that I often miss it.
The construction phase of the yard sidewalk project is now done. The crew took an entire month to finish this job, but a small percentage of this month represented actual work. I have been stewing in irritation over that fact all the while. I admit that the majority of this anger was irrational, but I did not appreciate the time of their actual work at all. For example, I had just three days of true vacation this summer. Of course they did 60% of this project’s labor during those three days.
I could vent on this matter more deeply than is healthy for me or my readers. My enthusiasm for this project has been indifferent at best, and I feel selfish that I haven’t been more supportive of something that is important to my husband. Why is it that I can’t just be smooth in enduring things that don’t interest me but matter to someone I love? Why did I have to be the mom who was secretly relieved that my child quit band?
The garden is enduring the late summer heat. This weekend I pulled some of the flower pots. They hadn’t fared well with the contrasting heat and rain of this past month.
The hibiscus bush is blooming at a different pace this year compared to the last two years. While it had a mass flowering in July and October during those years, this year it hasn’t stopped blooming since it started.
Each year I take a few days from work to help my daughter get ready for school. This morning I made a quick walk through a local public garden to capture some late summer blooms. Bumblebees attended sunflowers both tame and wild. I also spotted dew on some dark caladium leaves that looked like something from a dream:
I will close with a few other pictures from today’s walk, and then I will return to the yearly ritual of the back to school. The next step shall be the haircut. At least the hairstyles nowadays are simple and free of the perms and big hair of my school days.
This weekend we received some much-needed rain and cooler temperatures. The turn in weather bore hints of fall, which I would whole-heartedly embrace if not for the turmoil I feel within when thinking of what fall may hold for us this year. It’s no good to consider the future with worry over what could go wrong, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m terribly worried that we’ll have another school year that my daughter will barely tolerate. I keep telling myself that it’s utterly counterproductive to think in such a way, that worry improves the future about as well thought alone can make the hands of a clock move faster.
Last week I read Dicken’s A Tale of Two Cities for the very first time. I’ll try not to spoil the plot for those of you who haven’t read this classic, but I will mention that there is a poignant reverie wherein one of the characters imagines some glorious aspects of a future that stretches across several generations. Perhaps it is not natural for anyone to think so far into the future, but I found that I could not or would not think more than two to three years into the future. To look any further seems like delving into a choose-your-own-adventure where the choices seem impossible to make.
I also took a few pictures of yesterday’s garden, but I delayed the posting of them until today. I gathered more than my fair share of mosquito bites over the weekend. I’m not sure why I don’t remember from year to year that mosquitos and hardy hibiscus peak at the same time. You’d think I’d remember to dig out the insect repellent once the buds on my hibiscus bush are heavy with flower buds.
I just discovered that you can create WordPress.com posts within Google Docs.