not too cold

3.12.2020


Every morning when I get up, I brew a cup of either tea or an herbal coffee substitute.  Last November, seemingly overnight, I simply lost a taste for coffee.  I'm not sure why.  I have never desired to quit drinking coffee or found it distasteful before.  But, here I am, just as happily living without it as with it, wondering if one day it will seem appealing again and I'll go back to my morning cup.  However, lessening my caffeine intake (I still get some in my Earl Grey or green tea) has greatly improved the middle-of-the-night wakefulness I have always experienced, and for that reason alone I may never go back.  

I knitted some dishcloths and a twine scrubby a few weeks ago.  It is still hard to imagine knitting anything more complicated than a dishcloth, but these were a fun endeavor and I was happy with how they turned out.  For more than 10 years we have tried to reduce our waste and the plastic that comes into our home, with varying degrees of success.  Some habits are hard to break.  We are not big shoppers, but my husband has become almost as devoted to buying second-hand as I am, and we are both always aiming to use/wear/make things that are reusable, biodegradable, and natural.  Making the things we use and wear is a constant goal, even if it is just a small project like this.  

Watch:  We haven't had cable TV for more than a decade, and living here we are not able to pick up anything more than static with an antenna, so we stream the news (I mean I do, my husband hates the news) and watch shows via our Roku.  I usually watch a clip of the morning headlines from Portland and then national and world news on another app.  A small, simple dose to catch up, quick and done.  We still really enjoy watching a series together at night, but I sometimes dive into something on my own and recently finished Broadchurch.  The wonderful Olivia Colman and David Tennant lead.  

Read:  I read Pigs by Joanna Stoberock last month, a commentary on what we have done to the Earth and each other.  Also read was Where the Forest Meets the Stars by Glendy Vanderah.  I was pulled in by the title and how the description reminded me of The Snow Child, but this felt like a Lifetime movie.  Will and Testament by Vigdis Hjorth was about a fractured family with secrets and unresolved, hard feelings.  It was well written, but I found it depressing and went back and forth about continuing to the end, which I eventually did.  I loved Berlin: The Twenties by Rainer Metzger.  Amazing photographs, from an era and city I feel I know from another lifetime.

Listen:  I've been listening to the Poetry Unbound podcast that started last December.  Hearing poetry read is, for me, a much more powerful experience than reading it.  Padraig O Tuama has a beautiful reading voice and his brief but contemplative thoughts on each poem are so lovely.  Also in my earphones is Sabbath by Wayne Muller.  I grew up in a family that observed a Sabbath, so this idea is not new to me, but it is one that I have not practiced since I was a teenager, and grudgingly then.  Though I currently don't identify with a particular religious Sabbath, at this stage in my life I welcome the kind of peace and restoration observing a digital or other kind of Sabbath could bring.  

How has your week been (aside from politics and coronavirus)?  It's been beautiful here.  Sunny, a bit breezy, not too cold.  The back yard has been a bit neglected all winter, so I started doing some cleanup.  It's so tiny it doesn't require much work, but I pulled some weeds, cleaned out the beds, and cut up some trimmings that have been laying in the corner since fall.  I bought some pansies and tucked them into the window boxes out front, perhaps a bit too soon, but I just couldn't wait.  Every morning they are laying down from the cold of night, but by afternoon they are standing up and reaching for the sun once again.  It felt so good to be working outside; I reveled in the scent of turned dirt.  After telling my husband I don't want to put up the hammock this year because there's barely room for it, all I could think about was laying in it right then, cloudgazing, gently swaying, the sun warming my face.  


by mlekoshi