It's been a busy time, and I haven't been posting recently because of:
1. The Garden. Every year in midsummer I alternately rejoice and despair. How can just nine raised beds, 4'x4' each, produce such quantities of organic, practically free, and therefore sacred food? In the spring, as I push in the seeds or set out the baby plants, I never anticipate the summer explosion. And even if I did, I wouldn't want all that chicken-enriched compost, laboriously hauled out by me in the fall and dug in in the spring, to go to waste.
So now I have to deal with the result of my spring enthusiasm. The kale and chard are the most spectacular, with leaves as big as palm fronds. The tomatoes, eggplants and peppers are ripening nicely. The zucchini took a three-day break after its initial output and now is back with a vengeance. The broccoli is still going strong. And the three beds of beans, which I planted with my granddaughter V's assistance, are setting fruit. The more you pick, the more you reap is the paradoxical law of gardens. And it's true: I pick and pick and cannot even make a dent in the horn of plenty that is my potager. And so I wonder, how can there be hunger in this world? Where is the missing link between earth and table? Is it time, focus, water, knowledge? I am grateful for the local food bank which absorbs my plenty, but I wish I could do more.
2. The Book. I have, as you may remember, been working on a memoir of my decades with chronic fatigue syndrome (CFS). Having finished what is known in the trade as the shitty first draft, I am now struggling with the (to me) equally shitty second draft. It's a hard balancing act, staying true to the experience of the illness while keeping the reader and myself away from utter despair. I'm bringing my dogs into the story to help with this, just as they helped me get through the long years. I'm thinking of adding illustrations, the kind of drawings I did in the early stages of this blog, but wonder if I have the stamina.
3. The CFS. This is the big one. For many years, July has been a difficult month for me. Even before I was diagnosed, I would always go to a doctor in July, complaining that things weren't right. The doctors never found anything, which, as we now know, is typical of CFS presentations. But what is it about July that gets me every time--the solstice, the heat, the tiny shift towards darkness, the alignment of the planets, the blooming of the goldenrod? Regardless, I find myself careening between pretty good and goddam awful days, missing events I don't want to miss, holding back from projects I'm dying to take on. It's a shaky thing, life with CFS, never knowing what tomorrow will be like.
But then, life itself is shaky, and we never really can be sure about tomorrow, so what I'm dealing with is basically the human condition, only more so.