It’s a beautiful fall day in Minnesota. The sky is that amazing September blue and completely clear. The sun is warm, but the breeze has a hint of cool in it and is strong enough to rattle the drying leaves just enough to make them sound like a waterfall every minute or two. I love these days.
My garden is about done thanks to some unseasonably hot and dry weather the past few weeks. We’ve reached that lovely point where gardening meets fatalism. There’s no point in weeding or mowing; it will all be dead soon anyway. The tomatoes are either dead or overripe. All that’s left is pulling up the annuals, cutting back the perennials, mulching what needs care for the winter and hauling everything to the compost site. As much as I love that process, it’s not time yet. So, I must spend my time like every other gardener, sitting on my porch, sipping a cup of thoughtful tea and writing about how gardening is a metaphor for life. Continue reading
I am just back from an enneagram training (to make up for the one I completely spaced off last month). It was an overwhelming experience, and I will be unpacking (and writing about) it for some time. In addition to processing new information, emotional insights and friendships, I found myself slipping into marketing mode.
I am no spring chicken, but at 51 I was one of the youngest people there. I slowly realized this as the weekend progressed. This was a group of healthy, active, progressive folks. Until you started talking to them about technology. Many of them said they hated email. They generally thought social media was a waste of time. Any mention of this or that helpful website seemed to be met with a blank look or a disdainful comment as if the internet were the exclusive playground of reality TV fans and air-headed youngsters with nothing better to do.
I am writing this while sitting in the light of a Laura Roslin saint candle at my kitchen table. It was a Christmas present from my daughter. Some assembly was required, and because life happens and Christmas vacations end up being shorter than they seemed at the beginning, I did most of the assembly myself. But that’s fine. More than fine, really, because I now have everything I need to make a new one when this one burns down.