First, I want to let you all know...it's not that I am not reading your comments and just not responding, I read every one, but seem to have lost the ability to write one myself that shows up. So first things first (when I noticed this and started going a little haywire). To Anon - I remember Emily and Sarah in hats...sweet, funny them! And yes, the world should stop for outrageous huge grief, a minute would do, an hour would be better and a day would almost work. But since it won't, we plant gardens and sit by the sea quietly, and I just want you to know I've spent a part of every day by the water, with Emily in my heart and mind and soul and you beside me. Anytime, by the way. The CWIM agrees.
About the cat boat and the captain - don't think Culebra is not as small as I/we portray her, ever. Someone, somewhere, knows exactly what you are doing (and with whom you are doing it...even if that's not true) at any given time. Frankly, I've had more fun by rumour than I've had in real life by a fairly good list amount. Which is fine with me; we need the amusement and I like finding out what I've done that I didn't know about. Gossip? Figure it will get back to the person being gossiped about in...roughly....37 minutes on the outside. True.
And now...lessons from the garden. I was going to get a ride home today and then realized I'd not been to the children's garden in about 4 days, which means it probably wasn't watered in 4 days. Correctomundo. But, because this particular garden is blessed by the gardening gods, all was almost well. A few snippets here and there, lots of water, wa la. Maybe an hour doing what daily visits would take a few minutes to do.
As I worked/played, weeding, trimming, supporting, I couldn't help but let my head go on wander zone - which working in gardens is excellent for - and it was analogies are us time. I was thinking about some of the lost young men in our community. One of them has somehow attached himself to me and I last saw him today, in a job position. He knew I didn't recognize him (hey, he had a mask on because of the dust...did anyone recognize Batman? And what WAS that anyway...only his EYES were covered and no one...ok, never mind), but then I did. I really will try to be succinct here. But the deal was this.
When we started the children's garden, Ruben, a sweet, humble god among helpers, made the raised beds at my direction, he having no idea what the hell I was asking for but doing it all so perfectly and competently. Jacinto brought in gift dirt. It was dumped into the beds by bulldozer, driven by yet another volunteer. Carmen Rosa was the orchestra leader, I was the designer and oh lucky, we got it made. Uh oh, succinctness is not happening. Ok, let me move this up to the present.
A friend of mine who has, for now, shifted from sailor to farmer gave me way too many wildly healthy and thriving tomato plants. I put some in my garden and some in the children's garden (I posted about this some months ago, instand garden for the Goya guy...probably didn't label it though). And yes....here is the point. I was watering and weeding and thinking of the grown children not up to much good here - because I found myself becoming impatient weeding...wanting to grab handfuls of errant grass and other undesireable green stuff and realizing that yeah, I could do that and in three days it would have new, even stronger shoots. The thing was to get one and then one and then one. Tedious. But effective. The ones I snatched, not getting the roots, will be back with vigor. The ones I took painstakingly one by one are gone. And plants, good plants giving good food that were being strangled by bad weeds, will flourish.
La la. This is what gardening does for me - and in a good way. A reader might think, what? She's rambling on inanely, what's the point here? It's tamping down the random bouncing thoughts that are in my head, slowly slowly until there is peace and reason again. Here's the translation of my lala. If you know one young person, just one, that you can influence by getting involved in their life? Get involved. Take them fishing or help them plant a tiny garden or take them to the library or a circus. Even if it's a cake walk, literally (I loved cake walks...do they still exist?t) or a star watch or making a grilled cheese sandwich...it doesn't matter. We know what matters.
Obviously, gardening for me is a solitary event - I think anyone near me might have to wear the aluminium foil hat to keep my thought waves at bay. But in the meantime...there are some beautiful tomatoes growing and peppers coming next. Plants don't care about the nature of the caretaker. How nice is that?
Lessons of the garden, fini.
But the day wasn't over. A friend who had a dinghy near me got a wonderful new engine and has moved the dinghy to a better spot. Boat talk got me revved, so I put my little engine on my own dinghy and puttered out and about this afternoon. I haven't really been able to use my own dock in awhile but I was jazzed and decided to re-take my politely but not acceptably stolen space. Back to boat? Yes.
Here I was/am, searching searching for a photograph I wanted to put in (one of Emily, her at the beach just looking like everyone feels, glorious) when the phone rings. It is my brother, at the cabin (called Somewhere - my houseboat is Somewhere Too - think Somewhere Over the Rainbow) in North Carolina, happy as a clam in...mud (this photo was taken at the end of last summer...it's 32 degrees there right now, I'm hoping he's got a jacket on). He and a friend up there got four corners on his A frame set in the ground today (I wondered what that yaHOO'ing on the wind was...). His joy, along with memories of the beauty of the mountains, and a lot of laughter, ended a pretty wonderful day on a very good note. Which makes it time to try to sleep...grinning and remembering that there is a world out there where you can carry 50 tulip bulbs in your luggage from south Florida in the afternoon and have them planted on a NC mountain by the next morning. Just wait 'til I bring the chickens....