Life's Contentments this January

Rise and Shine, Sleepyhead!

A new year is here.

These past two years have been filled with frustration.  Arriving safely at photographic points and maintaining my balance depends on my other person’s willingness to help, and that help is lacking oftentimes. 

My sphere of outside contact with others has shrunk to the size of a pea, and interferes with the scope of my writings, causing anxiety.  I struggle, but I don’t give up.  I hope you aren’t struggling to find a reason to read further.

Christmas

is officially over!

My last gingerbread cookie

with a tea stained cup of piping hot

English Breakfast Tea.

On a whim at the beginning of January, I gifted myself a Gratitude Journal with a different affirmation for each day and prompts for mindful reflection. It is one that allows a person to work it at their own pace.  It’s not easy for me to shift my perspective, so my ordinary moments feel extraordinary.  I find it exhausting trying to promote a bit of happiness.

I’ve been stuck on the first page for four days now.  My affirmation is “I have courage”.  One of the things I wrote that I have been looking forward to is “Deciding what I want for the rest of my life”. 

As I write this, I guess the simple answer is gratitude, since I bought this dang journal in the first place, and the rest of my life could be just one day; but if it isn’t, I never believe the rest of my life is as long as I thought it was forty years ago.

A gift this past Christmas from my husband is an old book published in 1937 titled “The Birds of America, from original drawings of John James Audubon”.  The 500 plates are reproductions of drawings Audubon published in 1827 to 1844, so the ordinary person could afford to view his paintings.  It also has a six-page introduction by conservationist William Vogt.

Matte ink is used, and the paintings are still beautiful, although all pages suffer from edge tanning.  A slight drawback of the book is the weight of it.  It’s like lugging around a small boulder on the plastic tray of my walker creating quite a noticeable bit of drag when I push forward.

A dear friend since childhood gave me the book “Webb’s Cosmos, Images and Discoveries from the James Webb Space Telescope” which was published last year.  I obtained the book “The Universe and Beyond, Sixth Edition” soon afterwards.  All books, but I doubt one could ever have too many books.

It's definitely cold here, so one obviously knows it is wintertime, but it still seems milder than most recent winters.  No snow, not even a slight coating; no sleet or freezing rain or a week of temperatures not rising above the teens F.  Winter’s fury could show itself at any time, so I feel a little bit like someone waiting for the other shoe to drop the minute I publish this.

My outdoor garden this month is void of little treasures to find in the cold, or maybe, I’m just tired of the same photo fifty different ways.  My indoor garden, a converted desktop, harbors eight Peperomia plants trying to not look like the mutations they have become. 

I struggle with dry air from the heat pump running long periods of time making each plant’s watering needs different from the next.  In winter the sun moves at a lower arc across the sky, causing light to come through the window hitting the nearest plants.  They suffer, even though they are five to six feet away. 

The thickest leaf ones are nearer the window now, while the fuzzy leafed one has been moved the furthest away because it is susceptible to sunburn, and the thin leafed ones are in the middle and at the far end.  The miniature leafed one that looks so puny, just laughs at the rest while it soaks up all the sunlight. 

There was a time when I was the houseplant whisperer, but after this most recent experience, it seems I have become the houseplant undertaker.  

My mistake is not being attentive, not checking up on them every day to see if one needs that magic elixir of life - water.  I believe indoor plants contribute to one’s wellbeing, but I suck at contributing to their wellbeing.  I’m working at improving.

Their photos appear here, more as proof of their tenacity, than my capabilities.

Perhaps some form of gratitude will drift along eventually; I’m optimistic that way.  I just hope you aren’t grateful that this writing is over.

Warm Hugs,

Yvonne

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