The Furious Spinner

It's hot out today. After weeks of pounding rain, it's now summer. We went straight from winter to summer. My garden is concrete. I may have to replant everything I planted, except the garlic. The lettuce seeds cannot break the concrete. The squash and pumpkins did it in a couple of places. The marigolds (to stink away the bugs) never had a chance. I've tried to break up the sod, but I need to water and our hose got destroyed by a boy who mowed our lawn last summer. (He keeps coming back and asking if we need him to mow again and seems very perplexed when I say "no.") I am going to have to put up a fence again if I want vegetables. The deer are here. I put chairs up around the garden two nights ago. I told Mario we should leave the windows open so we could hear the deer laughing at me.

I've spent most of the morning trying to mediate between two very controlling women, goddesses both. Linda is grateful for the money the community raised, and we'd love just to give it to her, but because she's now on assistance, she can only use it for medicine expenses. If you've ever known anyone on assistance, you know that it's not enough money to get by on—and Linda is the most frugal person I have ever met. Anyway, the woman who has the checkbook was in the Air Force, and she is accustomed to telling people what to do and having them do it. She can get more done in one day than most people do in a month. She also has a very definite way of doing things, as does Linda. Throw me in the mix and you've got Cajun Stew. Spicy, delicious, and a bit of heartburn. (Sorry, it's almost lunch time.)

I'm behind in my news gathering. I would rather sow something else, anticipate a nourishing harvest in the future. The Senate avoided the "nuclear option," but they are confirming rightwing judges. It seems. In Iraq, people continue to die. I feel more and more that we need to work in our own communities, to make them places that are inhabitable, nurturing, loving, before the bigger picture will change. Subdue the demons with splendor.

I just went outside. For the first time since we've moved here, an iris is blooming. Yellow. The goddess Iris is Hera's messenger. Does she have a message for us? The three points of the flower are supposed to stand for faith, wisdom, and valor. I could use some of that.

I glanced at my garden. The strawberries were worse for the deer hooves, but a row of lettuce were trying to beat the heat. Then I walked over to the Kuan Yin Peace Garden. Kuan Yin looked cool even in the intense heat, surrounded by wild sweet peas. I breathed deeply and gazed at the goddess. Surrounded by wild sweet peas...wild sweet peace.

Ahhhh. I shall endeavor to continue my day on the path of peace. Et tu?


May You Be Surrounded by Wild Sweet Peace in Beauty!
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All photographs and written material copyright © 2003-2008 by Kim Antieau unless otherwise indicated. May not be used without permission.