On a Friday afternoon, I exit the school building and blink at the bright sunshine. Tasks of teaching fully absorb every thought during the day and I am almost disoriented now. As I drive home, my mind turns to other things, like the walk we took last Monday to the top of Christmas Hill. The city spreads before us, a medley of nature and human effort, with the Strait and Washington's Olympic Peninsula beyond.
A gnarly Garry Oak stretches moss-covered branches over the path, almost as if reaching to touch passersby. Once again I am reminded at how prodigious is life on this planet. Left to itself, nature soon takes over cleared fields and homesteads with blackberry brambles, thistles and broom.
Life is prodigious, but I cannot pick and choose what will have life and what will not. I plant seeds and the miracle of growth occurs, or it does not. I can only wait and see, water and weed and hope for the best.
"How odd," I think, "to be pondering planting and seeds when autumn is upon me." Perhaps, yet I'll be planting bulbs in the hope of spring blooms, and these pretty red leaves will become compost and nurture the soil.
I stop at the grocery store on my way home and buy a ready-to-bake pizza. Friday evenings are slow around here - dinner on a tray in front of the television. A BBC mystery, perhaps Miss Fisher, or Death in Paradise. It's lovely to think of sleeping past 6:30 am.
A weekend project besides the laundry and cleaning. A moto-style jacket. The fabric I'm using is behind the pattern. Wish me luck!
How's your weekend shaping up?