Last night’s frost coats the neighbor’s lawn and roof with white sparkles in the morning sun. I knew it was coming, but the first frost always catches me unprepared.
The bird population at our feeders has for some weeks been the standard winter-hardy crowd of red finch, chickadees and tiny sparrows puffed to cold weather size. The frost on the neighbor’s car reminds me to move the hummingbird feeder closer to the house. I will need to replace the fuchsia with some camouflage as the tiny birds continue to feed all winter.
Today’s work fits into the allotted time, or not. My attitude for some years now has been that I clean our apartment once a week whether it needs it or not. And if something doesn’t get done then it didn’t need it. That goes for dusting picture frames, sewing seasonal placemats, cutting down expired asters. My ability to sit and watch sailboats chase white caps on the bay has improved with regular practice.
I am also learning to avoid shopping excursions that no longer serve me. Ross and Marshall’s irritate me with their bargains I don’t need and have no place to store. A collection can suffice at two or three rather than needing to buy another cabinet for 12 or 20.
I used to think that I was gifting my children. I hear friends use the same rationalization. The truth is that our children married spouses with their own opinions about what was important to collect. Rarely do they agree with mine.
When age and dementia remove us from our stuff, our children are stuck cleaning out the unfinished quilting and wood working projects. They will not appreciate the inheritance.
Our abilities and interests change. The ponchos we knitted and wore in the ‘60s are never the styles brought out in 2011. Nothing stays the same forever. Take a deep breath and let go.