Real Paper Notes

Here I am at my coffee shop, sipping on a non-fat latte with an extra shot, or moosed, as our local chain likes to call it.

The damn dog woke me up at 6:30am on a Saturday morning. Lucky for him, he raced out to relieve both his bowel and bladder. It’s the mornings he goes out to bark at the birds that I could just as easily cut him loose. Unfortunately, I am not one of those people who can effortlessly go back to sleep, and so like I said . . . here I am.

There was a time when I used this blog as therapy. I must have worked through several of my issues, because I just don’t seem to need it like I used to. This morning brought back memories of rising early,sneaking off for coffee and writing before Bubba wakes. And so it seemed only natural I should log in and click “Add Post” while the sun slides up in the sky.

A friend sent a note a week ago. Not electronically. She made it with real paper, with a hand-drawn fish on the front. She wrote a few words, not many. “How’s it going?” “What’s new?” but the card said so much more. It made me think about her. She lives on the coast, and fish are ever-present on her mind. Big fish. Like whales. Drawing a fish on a real paper card is so like something she would randomly do, eagerly dropping the envelope into a mailbox on the way to the rocky shore to look for shells, or jellyfish, or whatever the sea rolls in.

I can’t say for sure, but I imagine her finding the little oval cards with their matching envelopes at a humble second-hand shop or old-fashioned drug store. The price was right, and she knew she’d find some way to make someone’s day brighter; the thought of their smile involuntarily igniting one of her own. She has this crooked little grin when there’s something she’s thinking but not saying.

Perhaps she stared out over the waves when she decided what to do with the notecards, or maybe she was pulling weeds in the garden. But I know she spent some time contemplating. I know she thought about each person who would be on the other end while she drew. She undoubtedly laughed at her illustration of a fish swimming through the weeds. And she sent it anyway. Because that’s who she is.

And in this age of email and text messages, what kind of person does this random act of drawing a fish on a plain pink card and sending it in a matching envelope through the mail? It reminded me of how much I miss her unapologetically real and honest soul. If we asked her, she’d laugh and say she is quite unremarkable. And perhaps she’s right. Maybe we want to believe it takes a certain someone to make time for this simple deed. Maybe we’re afraid of learning that if we slow down for just a minute, we, too, hold the potential for honesty, love, following our dreams, and sending real paper notes through the mail.

This little card reminded me just a bit of who I want to be. When was the last time an email did that?

Peace . . .

Check out my friend’s Instagram Account to know her better:

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A Train of Thought, Off Its Track

I feel like I owe you an explanation.  Several, actually.

I’ve been busy.  But more than that, I seem to have lost my voice.  Or maybe I’ve lost my train of thought, sprawled recklessly off its track with weeds growing up through the axles.

What started me blogging was a perverse lack of passion for anything at all.  An apathy for life itself.  Blogging became my antidepressant.   And like an antidepressant, as it heals, seems less needed.  The patient forgets to take the dose, or self-prescribes a weaning-off.

My work, the work they pay me to do, requires more thought than my old position; more creative thinking.  Unfortunately, leaving me with less available to me in my leisure.  So instead I create with my hands.

Remember my hugelkulter?  As promised, I am sharing its progress.  I’ve now planted in it — bush beans and cilantro and pepper plants . . .

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A Salad garden was built and is already being harvested . . .

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The rain garden has been dug out and native plantings are going in . . .

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A path was laid . . .

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A stepping stone was made . . .

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The lawn is being taken over one small planting at a time.  Iris and catmint and clematis along the fence . . .

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Cardboard, compost and mulch create a no-dig garden, ready for planting this fall or next early spring . . .

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Planters and feeders . . .

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Herbs . . .

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And plenty of volunteers to help . . .

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(volunteer petunias greet my guests)

I promise I’ll write soon.  I know what I want to say, I just can’t put it to words right now.

Peace . . .