I woke up this morning feeling dreadful. That is, I felt dread when I faced my morning routine. I was pretty sure I would be making my own coffee - after my usual "de-slug the garden" ritual - another dread inspiring endeavor. First, I dawdled a bit on my computer, thus reducing any slug/snail gathering I might manage, gastropods being the nocturnal creatures they are.
So... eventually, I went out and did my garden slug plucking. Then I came in and faced the kitchen. Whoa, pretty messy in there. Normally, Kevin cleans up a bit before bed but last night, the Olympics held our focus firmly. So... I began the kitchen drudgery. As I warshed stuff and wiped surfaces and put things away, it became more clear with each shuffling that a great many of these mess modules were my own doing. It must be a daunting task for Kevin to navigate my: bowl of clay/coconut oil, herbal tincture, bowl of herbal tincture, 8 or 9 bowls of daylily pollen, columbine seeds which need to be packed and stored, onions I pulled, lime I partially used, candle jar I froze and pulled the wax out of but which still needs warshed, citronella oil I got out but did not put back, vases- one with a dead bouquet hanging on, another empty but unrinsed.
While I was at it, I washed the fruit bowl and tossed the dirty paper liner, wiped all the counters, put away the clean dishes, trimmed and rearranged the latest vase of flowers... about this time.... after all of the above, the second time the tea kettle whistled and as I was beginning to pour the water through the coffee.... I had a flash of how very blessed I am to have my little kitchen to putter in - to gather pollen and herbs, to cook, to make tinctures and potions and lotions, to grind coffee, and yes, to wash dishes.... I remembered a time when I was, yeah, actually homeless - when I longed for a roof and a floor, for walls and warmth and shelter... and oh yeah, how I longed for an oven and a sink and a counter, a fridge...
Suddenly, I was not wiping the counter. I was caressing it. The dread had all evaporated, transformed - into joy and contentment. Magically.
Now. Where is my coffee?
1 comment:
When Annie and I first moved up here on the mountain, in 1982, we moved into a windowless 20 by 16 foot cabin, with no running water, no electricity, no power, no stove, no refrigerator, no shelves, cupboards, tables chairs, just a shell. It makes us appreciate what is in place today. Loved your piece.
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