Trouble?

Now this is weird to consider, but when the garden is weedy, I feel like I'm going to get in trouble. Same with a messy house and disorderly bookwork. When I was a child it was dad ordering me to clean up, later the punitive party became God. Today, even the weather might be considered punitive. This seems pathological. Perhaps I should ride some different train of thought. No really, when I stand there looking at the pigweed, surely I'll get in trouble with some environmental agency for propagating a noxious weed—is pigweed noxious? And the bills, I just had a nasty run-in with the bank in regards to a mistake in my checking balance—what can I say? I went a little crazy the week I signed the divorce papers. And as for the weather, it is now rainy and windy—I couldn't possibly…?

My garden is a mess, I'm sorry. My bills are in a pile, sorry, My cat has hairballs, sorry. The car needs to be washed, sorry. I've been eating too much sugar, sorry! Okay, all right already. Last night the wind and rain came in. It had been sputtering distant thunder all day and the clouds were fabulous piles of blue/white cumulus bordering on those dramatic blue/black thunderheads my dad always pointed out. "Look," he'd say, an anvil cloud. And sure enough, there'd be the blacksmith's anvil riding the air currents. In Spokane, as a kid, we'd have heat lightning lighting the horizon and everyone would be restless. The room seemed small and the muggy air was hard to breath. Nothing moved. Sort of like the last few days, with the high heat and humidity in the PNW. The apartment seemed to shrink by 50 percent and the air, my word, it's not heavy—it's my.. Never mind. Sweat poured off me as I stared up at the ceiling in the dark. Moan! I didn't go to sleep until 1:30 in the morning.

When I returned from Spokane the dahlias were in bloom at the community garden. And there's a hollyhock at least 12 feet tall. Really, I'll show you the shot I took aiming up at the sky. Fabulous. And someone has rows of raspberries and the plum trees are so laden, the branches look like they could break. And the blackberries—lush! If every aspect of my life is like my garden, then I'm suffering from malnutrition, at least suffering a loveless life. Everyone says, love yourself, and I do. But what I think I don't know how to do is let someone in who truly loves me in return. I've for some reason picked the narcissistic personality to be my loved one. I love, nothing comes back. Oh it does come back in minuscule amounts, here and then, enough of a carrot to keep me going, I guess. But I'm tired of that, no more dangling carrots for me. I need a real meal. I need a lush garden with 12 foot hollyhocks.

Well, enough of this. I have a grandbaby coming soon and hopefully we'll get to the garden today.

Ciao!

Ciao!