A (melancholy) birthday poem

The leaves on the (dying) trees are brighter today.
The air from the (toxic) sky is crisper today.
The rays from the (UV laden) sun are warmer today.
Your (barely aging) face is still sweet.
Your (nearly graying) hair is still messy.
Your (bleeding-from-work) hands are still gentle.
I'm glad today (you were born.) is your birthday.
You make (the death in my) days bearable.
You bring joy to my (dull) life.




It was Matt's birthday last week.  This means it's October; the beginning of falll, the end of any possibility of just one more glorious summer day, and the end of my beloved garden...(insert stifled sob).  I start to think about Matt's 32 years of life so far and I mourn for the ones I wasn't a part of.  It sounds silly really, because he might not have turned out to be my awesomely wonderful Matt, had we met previously.  But I start to think about our future as a couple and understand that we might not always be in good health.  One of us will probably outlive the other by a number of years.  One day we will wake up and realize that our bones ache, our steps have slowed, and one of us has lost most of our hair (and I'm really hoping that "one" is not me).  We will no longer be able to run marathons, stay up late for hammerschlagen at bonfires, and our bodies will have changed into, um, less sexy versions of ourselves.  It all sounds so terribly morbid and depressing and oh my gosh how do you get up in the morning, Meredith?!

Don't worry, it's all good.  Because I'm a total sentimental mental case, I totally and fully, love every single second with this man (except those single seconds that I don't but they're in the minority and so they DO NOT COUNT!)  I am grateful for things (like fall, and death, and change) that remind me to appreciate the people I love, to be thankful of how life turns out (or doesn't turn out), and to look bravely ahead, semi-optimistically.

It's October; time to snuggle into my sweet little house, tidy up my dirty fireplace, and enjoy the warmth of my furry and non-furry favorites.

Colors of a summer kitchen

                                                              

I've been really in love with my garden this year.  So in love in fact, that I have failed to properly document it, like a good parent should!  Photos have been taken but not posted, dated, or labeled.  Ah well.  More to come, but for now, a taste of a few hours in my summer kitchen.   

I feel much like a 50's housewife might have felt, and it feels good.  It feels good because it is a choice, not an expectation.  I am grateful for all of the women (and men!) who have made that choice possible.  This afternoon there was a screech of tires outside and to check to see that everyone was ok, I ran out in my polka dot apron, hair pulled back with a headband, hands red from the beets.  I may as well have been carrying a meat cleaver and dragging a dead goat because the totally chic metropolitan woman walking by was taken more aback by the sight of me than the sound of the screech.  Such is life in my neighborhood.

But the neighborhood has been good lately.  After our block party for National Night Out, neighbors have been out and chatting one another up more than usual.  We received smiles and waves from the folks that live in "that problem house".  Tonight is another neighborhood concert.  Let's hope the sweetness from this lasts through the cold autumn days when we start to mourn the long, warm, sidewalk chats about the status of the cucumbers, how many miles we're running today, the latest yard project, and oh did you see that suspicious vehicle parked here this afternoon and I called the cops too.  

To help the summer love last all year, today I canned beets, made pesto, and pickled peppers.  There is so much to learn about something it seems we should be brought up knowing how to do.  I love learning from my grandmother and love using jars she has probably used for decades.  It just seems right.  I also love thinking about feeding my prized produce to my beloved this winter.  WINTER.  Ack.  That pesto, though, will remind us to enjoy our days, whether they be warm or chilly, because they go by oh so fast.

For now, I'll grab my dog and go for a run before the concert in the park.  Maybe I'll see some neighbors and ask about the cucumbers.