The good news about the rain, is that it feels like Fall, and when it feels later, the Fair doesn’t sneak up on me as much. The other day I thought I may have already missed it. (No! It’s this weekend.) But that’s my life at the moment. (Garden produce and baked goods can still even be entered– they are due Weds. between 9:00-1:00. I am thinking about taking my roosters over there, but only if I can leave them.They aren’t mine anyway. They are foster roosters, but I’ve had them a year and a half and they are noisy. Very. But that’s another story.) Anyway, I’ve taken to using sticky notes to remind me of other commitments in between caring for Chip. One says ” Nick Jans library 6:30.” That would be author Nick Jans, reading from his new book, about a wolf named Romeo– the famed black wolf of Juneau who played with dogs and was not afraid or hostile to people. It’s a powerful story and he tells it well. I don’t want to miss that. Also, Nick lives here now, he and his wife bought a place out at 26 mile. I should have made a sticky-note about babysitting yesterday, as all day I thought I was having the girls in the evening so Brian could take Sarah out to dinner for their anniversary. Turns out July 28th is today, not yesterday. I knew that, right? The upside of all this is that I was much more organized than usual with dinner last night. (Okay, so I got Mosey’s take-out.) Earlier, yesterday morning, I took Pearl for what I thought was a quick trot around the place in the pouring rain. I pulled my long rubber raincoat, the one I use moose hunting since it falls almost to my ankles and can be sat on, like a tarp, while we wait and watch for moose– over my polka dot flannel pajamas. I assumed no one else would be out in the deluge, then I heard my friend Beth hollering– and we laughed and walked a couple miles in the storm, and it didn’t matter a bit that I was caught out in my jammies on the beach. A little later I was dashing somewhere, some errand I now can’t recall, of course– and on the car radio a spiritual writer was talking about mindfulness. She said she does everything with purpose now, even tidying her desk daily. She said an ordered desk is a sign of a quiet mind and taking the time to put everything in its place is a kind of meditative practice. My mind is so not quiet, and my desk is a disaster, so I’m thinking about what she said. She is right, I know that– and my rainy walk proved it in a backward kind of way– as then, I quit fretting about things beyond my control– like Chip’s bones mending– or that I was still in pajamas while I hiked. Which means maybe I am not as unfocused as I think I am. I know enough– or perhaps have good enough instincts– to stop and be present when I have a good moment to be in. Like yesterday in the rain with Beth. Like hearing Chip read to Lani. Like showing Stoli how to can smoked salmon. Like at Mosey’s visiting with old friends while waiting for takeout. Like very early this morning– around 3:00 am– talking softly with Chip, upstairs, in our very own bed, for the first time in five weeks.
