As I write this, I am enjoying a good sized glass of red wine. Breathe in, breathe out in satisfaction. No, I may not clear my points exactly today (I didn't total my dinner points, but it was roasted chicken, cantaloupe, and blackberries--nothing too crazy there), but it's okay. Today I worked my body really hard in the backyard. I pushed myself (maybe a bit too much since now my arms and shoulders are throbbing like crazy), but I feel good too.
As a kid, I'd always hated yard work, but somehow it's different carving out order in my own space. This afternoon we tilled the backyard by hand (yeah, maybe next time it might be worth renting a roto-tiller, but oh well, I'm sure the work burned a bunch of calories), laid out grass seed and watered it thoroughly. I'm oh so hopeful that those little seeds will take root and grow. I'd never, EVER, guess that I'm a garden person (just ask my mom), but I find myself returning again and again to peer at a little bud willing it to open, or feeling joy at seeing my little bitty rose bushes come out of their dormancy and reach out for the life of spring.
Somewhere, maybe, there's a metaphor for me. Being out there, outside in the breeze and sun and dirt, I feel a little piece of myself unfold, coming out of my dormancy. Who knows? Maybe I'm that little (er, or not so little) rose bush opening up to reach the sun. Metaphors notwithstanding, in the yard I feel so good that I am moving and exercising my body and doing something worthwhile and productive too. I feel as though I've earned my glass or two of wine, even if I go over...it's different than what happened earlier in the week because my mind is in a different, more joyful place. A wish for my little garden (and for me): Grow!
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