Posts Tagged With: seasons

Is It Just Me?

Is it just me or have things gotten a bit foggy?


Maybe I’m not getting enough sleep, but I don’t think that’s it. I just seem slightly off kilter, kind of how you feel during those first few stumbling minutes after extricating yourself from the tangle of sheets and the magnetism of the pillow. Except I’m that way all day long.

In fact, my personal dialog after regaining some form of consciousness in the morning usually goes something like this:

“Can I work a nap into my day? How soon? Can it start now? Maybe I can call in sick today? Is there anything in my life more important than sleep?”

Even after a shower and all the getting ready for the day, including fluffing my hair and getting my game face on, I just want to fall face first into the pillow and pass out.

I don’t think I can blame it on a seasonal change thing, or a time change thing, because A) we don’t do the time zone change thing here in Arizona and B) it’s now the glorious weather season when being outdoors isn’t toxic to our health. If anything I’m getting outdoors more now than in the past eight months.

The days are shorter, I’ll grant you that. Sunrise at 6:40ish and sunset at 5:30ish. That’s ony eleven hours, less than half a day of full on sunshine. And I’m not a fan of darkness. Not a fan at all. I sleep with at least four lights on in the house, that’s how much a fan I’m not.

A Charlie Brown Christmas

Maybe it’s the onslaught of the shopping season. Notice I didn’t say Holidays, or site any other holiday at all. I walked into several stores yesterday and found myself immediately and definitively assaulted by REDandGREENandSPARKLEandCINNAMONandHOLIDAYMUSIC. For Pete’s sake it’s only November! I felt like Charlie Brown walking past Snoopy’s dog house decked out in ridiculous, nonsensical outlandish overkill.

“Oh, brother,” I said, shaking my head and leaving the store as quickly as possible. I did not want to shop, I did not want to find a sale, I did not want to spend my money there. I know, you think I’m a Scrooge. Maybe I am. Bah.

But I don’t think that explains the foggy brain either.

Yes, the month is busy, but it’s a happy busy.

Maybe it’s a good thing I’m taking a much needed, but very rare, break this weekend. Yup, I’m getting my vacation on. Living la vida loca!  Becoming a wild woman.

Well, probably not all that wild. If you define wild as going for a hike, walking the rocky shore of a lake, sitting on the patio watching the sunset, simmering in a hot tub watching the steam rise into the below freezing air, then yeah, I’ll be a wild woman. Maybe I’ll return all “bright-eyed and bushy-tailed” as my Dad used to say.

Hammock - Polynesia.

If that doesn’t do the trick at lifting this fog then I’m in deep trouble.

Maybe I should just give in to that siren call of a nap. What harm could twenty or thirty minutes do? It’d probably be just what I need. Maybe it’s as simple as that.

I think I’ll book myself a little trip to dreamland and see what happens.

Categories: Mental Health, Wondering | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Planting the Green, Green Grass of Home

October is spring time for me and I don’t live in the Southern hemisphere.

I can explain.

I grew up with four seasons. The traditional ones. Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall. Three months, more or less, of each. Winter was the brutal months. Walking to the bus in the near blizzard conditions made me question my desire for an education. The first few weeks of sledding and tubing and snowman construction got old quickly when the snow melted and pooled around my toes in galoshes. I did not like the cold. I still don’t.

Umpteen moves later we’ve temporarily settled, for the past 15 years, in the Phoenix area. Two seasons exist here: hot and warm.

Because of the southwestern desert heat during the summer months of April through September, I stay inside with air-conditioning keeping me cool and sane. Sure, I venture outdoors in the early morning hours before the sun comes up, and after the sun goes down. When the sun’s visible, I try to avoid being out there. It’s brutal. One hundred ten, one hundred fifteen, and that’s in the shade. I get cabin fever stuck inside so much.

If we had a pool I’d be out there more, but that’s a luxury, even here.

By time the temperatures drop below a hundred and the evenings cool into the seventies I feel like a bear that’s been hibernating all winter. Finally, I get to go outdoors, breathing unprocessed air, walking, biking, gardening, swinging kids at the park, picnicking, hiking, living.

I often and mistakenly call the fall months springtime here. Weird, but that’s how my brain processes finally being able to escape the indoors.

photo-18 copy 11I just spent four hours outdoors overseeding my winter lawn with rye grass seed in my backyard. If I don’t do this the cooler temperatures force the Bermuda grass into hibernation mode and I look out on three hundred square feet of dead looking grass until April. It’s not much fun to play on or lie on, or walk barefoot in. Not to mention the dead stuff gets tracked into the house and makes a mess. So, environmentally irresponsible or no, I scalp the lawn, spread the perennial  rye  grass seed, layer on the topping mulch or, (gross) steer manure, and then water faithfully three or four times a day for a week or so.

The end result?  A lush, living, breathing carpet of green as a foreground to my raised vegetable and flower beds.

While spreading the dirt over the freshly scattered tiny seeds, I thought of all the seeds I’ve planted over the years. Vegetables, flowers, grass. Some grew and some didn’t. Some shot up tiny seedlings and then died off. And some took off and grew into incredible plants with a yield that would do any master gardener proud. I just never know what results to expect.

That’s so much like my life.

photo-17 copy 17I’ve put effort into things I thought would produce happiness and satisfaction. I’ve spent time with people I believed I could help or who needed what I had to offer. The various seeds I’ve planted boggle my mind if I think about it much.

And just like the vegetables, flowers and grass, some of my seeds have done nothing. Some looked promising and then died off. And some became a rich and stunning plant that gave back more than I ever put in.

I’m afraid I might have planted too much meaning and hope among my grass seed today. I get a little antsy when I do that. Putting myself into something scares me every time. Over-investing myself in anything feels particularly risky.

Oh well.

I throw the seed out there. I water, I fertilize and I hope.

Categories: Gardening, Hope, Nature, Outdoors | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Clocking the Calendar

It’s Friday! Yay!


Oomph, it’s Monday…


Only 3 more hours…


Forty five minutes more is way too long!


Is it just me or does time have this fluid quality to it that makes little sense? How does an hour race by, yet another hour drag?

And wasn’t January just last week? But wasn’t January ages ago?

What makes the difference in the perspective at which time appears to move?

Like the tree in the forest falling and making or not making a sound, if no one sees the clock ticking or cares what the calendar says does time still move?

I suppose even ancient civilizations tried to corral time and seasons by charting the sun’s movement across the sky. We too attempt to rein in the days and years with meaningful markers that assign structure to the uncontainable force of time.


People dream of traveling through time as if it’s a vacation destination or a malleable clay waiting passively for reshaping.

Then those déjà vu moments throw our thinking off kilter, making us wonder if time does bend and flex and fold. I’ve never cared for that sensation. One “time” in particular still sticks with me even after nearly forty years.

I’ve wondered, awkwardly, if I’ve experienced that crucial moment multiple times as a chance to finally get it right. But I don’t believe in stuff like that!

Waiting. Hurrying. Wasting. Losing. Looking back and looking forward. Reminiscing. Regretting. Wanting more. All things we do with time or wish we could do with time.

I think time does the doing and we ride its crest or tumble uncontrollably through its wake or float along in its gentle waves. But we and it are, apparently, always moving.

Or are we?



Categories: Wondering | Tags: , , , | 2 Comments

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