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Sunday, August 7, 2011

Pruning Therapy

Whacking away at bushes gone wild is much cheaper than retail therapy plus it adds the benefit of burning more calories than strolling through a store. I realized recently, a week or so ago, that my backyard is an honest reflection of my inner-state; mind, heart & soul. I was enjoying a rare dip into the hot tub, delighting in the greenery and birdsong until my gaze shifted from the trees and birds down to where the jasmine was thriving, growing merrily away and strangling it's near neighbours,  the miniature pomegranate bushes. I also noted an unwanted fruitless pear that had volunteered it's presence in the same planting bed and had weaved it's way through the roses, the whole mess again the prisoner of the wayward and pernicious aforementioned perfumed vine. What a great jigsaw puzzle.

It has taken a week or so for the matter to ferment inside the mysterious workings of my brain. And today I was so bothered by my inactivity I succumbed to the lure of green tea and the hoped for energy it might supply to prod me to action; any action.   Said action turned out to be the backyard, my brain letting my body know without any consultation with 'me' what needed to be done and I found myself halfway through filling the large green waste container before I realized I was outside and actually doing something productive. Oh the wonder of drugs (caffeine) and a rare beautiful summer day. I have missed most dreadfully my cool, but clear and sunny, summer mornings when I could putter out back to my hearts content. Instead this year I want to pull on slippers and a sweater, brew my herbal tea and hibernate in front of Hal (a term for my computer borrowed from Poodle whom I have not introduced to this medium but for whom I have great respect and admiration. Anyway, I digress - think Space Odyssey if you need a reference.)

Thirst finally drove me inside, leaving the green waste container filled with just enough room left at the top for lawn clippings. My mind and body temporarily soothed by meaningful (to me) activity, and an hour or so gone that I did not have to fret over. If only they could all pass in such a gloriously unexamined way.

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