Every day is the beginning of many new things, the end of some things, and the continuation of most. I am having to learn to stay, still, in this, my present, while also planning for the future as hoping and planning is a part of what makes us human. When I die, sooner maybe but hopefully later, what I have done now will be here for others to see.
My sister rang to chat this morning - I haven't talked to her for that long on the phone for..... for ever! Why not? Will we keep it up in the future? I hope so. There are those people, often family, that we take for granted because they'll always be there for us. I must make more time for those special people.
The other day when sorting out seeds to find a few things to sow in my vegetable garden, and work out what to order, I found a packet of sweet peas that had slipped unnoticed under the bottom flap of the cardboard box. It had an expiry date of 2014, but it needed to be disposed of, so I poked the seeds in around the bottoms of the bamboo. They probably won't grow, but maybe a few will, and imagine the joy when I, or others, look out the kitchen window and see them climbing up the bamboo! Or even the excitement of a bee, finding food in spring. The sowing is an act of hope and faith that the world will continue, with or without me. If the seeds grow, that will be wonderful. If they don't germinate, they will rot, break down and become part of the soil that nourishes the bamboo that my friend Peter gave me, the sunchokes that my friend Violet gave me, and the potatoes that grabbed life with both hands and ran wild here.
I put more seeds on to sprout, and watered the microgreens. I've grown both before, pretty casually, but now they seem like a much safer option than salad greens bought from a supermarket, so hopefully I'll turn it into a habit.
And they are so yummy:
Mac and I climbed the boundary fence (with permission from the farmer) and picked two buckets of beautiful mushrooms today. I'm going to try dehydrating some to add to winter casseroles.
Mac made more bread today - for years, in the days before supermarket pizza bases, he made pizza bases, so kneading bread is not new to him.
It's funny, this pandemic, end of life as we knew it time, because in the moment, the exact moment, life is exactly right. I walked down to the mailbox (600 metres from the house) with a box of apples to leave for anyone who wanted some. The sun was warm on my back, the stream was gurgling away, birds singing, a pukeko feather was shining on the gravel, I collected a couple of pine cones and some harekeke stalks to add to the kindling pile. All was perfectly normal and wonderful in the moment.
I got a text from some neighbours along the road who I hardly know, and who have gone into lock down elsewhere, offering me the fruit and vegetables in the their garden, after I messaged them offering eggs and apples. People are being kind and generous in the midst of these troubles. I hope we can continue this way always.
I had ordered groceries from Countdown, but wasn't sure that we'd get them as we are out of zone by 3.5km. However, late afternoon they rang me and asked if I'd be willing to meet them at the corner of the road. It was quite an adventure, as I felt like I was meeting my drug dealer for a surreptitious boot to boot transaction! Well, gotta get some excitement somehow! More milk today as well. I never thought I'd say, "I'm just washing the milk in soap and hot water"!
I've got an appointment to have a haircut in a couple of weeks and my hair is feeling a bit scruffy already. Obviously I'm not going to be keeping that appointment, so I'll be wearing hats more often, and I've been googling ways to wear scarves that don't make me look like a member of Glorivale or such.
And each day I sit with a cup of tea (lemon verbena this time)
and consider these questions:
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