In the morning, the sun shines on my studio as it rises. Soon the yard here will be a paved courtyard. I know that sounds horrid — that word “paved” brings cold ugly images to mind — but with large gaps between and moss, plus the trellis and fountain I hope it will still look cozy/lovely.
I am relaxing; I can speak one single syllable at a time but I can string several together to get phrases out. Every day is better since Monday’s crash.
It’s awful to become so emotionally incontinent and mute. Even though, in the middle of it, I meet Anna and her mother and can unaccountably speak — with a stutter but I could communicate with her.
Every time this happens, the same analogy emerges in my brain to explain how I feel: It’s as though I am the pilot of a plane but the co-pilot (my amygdala) has the controls and it suddenly starts flying erratically but I don’t know why because our intercom is broken.
I cry, breathing is difficult if I try to talk and I get all twitchy/jerky; all I want to do is “get through.” But no seizures. No seizures!
Wednesday was a medicated day. It was the hottest nicest day since I moved here. Today is expected to be even hotter.
Darrell came by. He’s going to start the trellis earlier than planned and then he’ll start on the courtyard. I’m, of course, thrilled. We positioned the fountain and the height of the trellis and discussed the front screen door. He’s so understanding of my speech; it’s easy to communicate with him. I like it when he’s around. He’s so kind! He’s gifting me with more salmon.
Talking about the trellis got us onto the subject of sunlight and I mentioned that the trees that are, right now, making my backyard very shady. And he, like all the locals I encounter of late, started talking about the coming heat: “Just wait. In a month you’ll be loving those trees and that shade.”
When I moved here in the Fall, all anyone talked about was power-outages. Now it’s the coming heat.
I decided that today, regardless of feeling like a zombie, I’d do something. I raked the yard, chilled, and then took Sheba to Drumbeg. When I got back, I did some fence work and I’m really glad I did. I’m back into it and will do much more today.
In the evening, I watched a movie and felt good that I did not crash emotionally all day.
We are rushing into summer. I sense evidence everywhere. The most obvious change is the greening of the island. The acres of dark wet tangles of brown branches have turned into stunning lime green pillows. The wet soil has dried out, releasing the familiar scent of Fir needle resin and dry twigs crack under my feet.
My birds are almost all gone. It’s sad without them. I guess bird feeding is a winter activity. There are still some, thank heavens, but very few.
My yard is going to be keeping me busy just as I hoped it would: I’ll be clearing pinecones, pruning bushes, watering, picking up dog droppings, weeding and fertilizing.
The best signs of summer, though, are the stands popping up outside homes everywhere selling plants, kindling, cheese, eggs, crafts, soap, etc. and the farm stands and Farmers Market will be opening next month.