Swing, Cardboard Box, Chickens, August

Swing 

Here's a picture of my front yard swing after I remade it two years ago.

I could have taken a fresh picture, but it looks exactly the same today.  After I remade it AGAIN.  That cloth is very expensive water repellent SunBrella (I paid almost as much for the fabric as we did for the original entire swing 30 years ago)).  A few weeks ago I looked out and notice that it was sagging oddly.  Somehow water had gotten into the seat - and not gotten out.  So I had to rip open the main cover seam and pull the sodden insides out.  There's a thick foam inner layer, a thick layer of batting, and then a plastic cover.  It all had to be disassembled, spread out to dry, and all put back together again, mostly by handsewing because it's too bulky to maneuver at my machine.  I debated just chucking it and buying a wooden swing - but this padded sling swing is just sooooo comfortable.  I have sat outside many a time to read and ended up lying down and taking a nap.

So I put it all back together.  I really wanted to mount it to the swing and call this project done.  The heat index was 112.  I could try to wait until it was cooler - but that might be November.  So somehow I did it.  Satisfied, I sat in it for a bit to celebrate, but after a few minutes I decided that no matter how comfortable it was, sitting outside in 112 degrees just isn't the best thing.   But at least it's done (and I've waxed the seams this time).

Box

I am mourning the loss of a cardboard box today.  It was (once upon a time) a very sturdy fruit box.  Some 10-15 years ago, when Bob and I were helping out in the animal kitchen at the museum over Christmas, some fruit/vegetables for the animals came in this box.  Bob asked if he could have it;  he thought the cats would like it.  Strange how memories work - why would I have such a clear memory of him asking for a box - where he stood, the sound of his voice, the person he was talking to (Shelby).  He was right - the cats loved that box.  Lying on top of it, taking naps inside, hiding to pounce out on passers-by - especially when the girls were kittens.  It has stayed in the hallway for all of those years.

But I finally admitted that it had been loved (and scratched) to death.  Collapsing.  Mostly gone.  So today it went to the recycling bin at the dump.  But you don't have something around for a decade plus without it seeming awfully empty without it.

Chickens

I was thinking about my chickens the other day.  People think I have chickens for the eggs; this is sort of true, but to be honest, the eggs are the excuse and not the reason.  I buy them the best possible food - for the cost of that, I could buy all the eggs I need and then some.  Any chicken owner will tell you that you have chickens because you like having chickens

They're good for me.  Any number of articles will tell you that it's good for your health to get natural daylight first thing in the morning, and even to take a short walk.  But without the chickens, would I actually get up and walk around outside before breakfast?  As it is - I have to let them out of the coop and feed them first thing in the morning (well, second thing- the cats get fed first).  Rain, shine, storm, heat, cold - I'm outside. And while I'm out, I look at the sky and the trees and the slanting light and listen to the birds.  And at night, when it gets dark, I have to lock them up again - while listening to the frogs and the whip-poor-wills and seeing the last of the sunlight low and purple through the trees.

And I just like them.  I like their contented little brrk brrk brrk sounds. And the excited "look look look an egg!" brag.  I like the way they come running when they see me because maybe I have a treat.  A couple of them (Frollo and Ginger) like to be scratched.  They're basically happy birds, and they're good for me.  The eggs are a bonus.

August

And now it be August.  July has, once again, been survived, which is all I ask of July.  August is when I start to sense a change, that the seasons are turning - even if day after day our heat indices are topping 110 degrees. Maybe it's the angle of light. Maybe it's the days getting just a wee bit shorter.  Maybe it's all the stores putting out their Halloween displays.  It's just a feeling.

My mood is swinging back and forth between hyper and despair.  Bob and I got engaged in August.  We got married in August.  It was in August that we started spending our days in the oncology clinic, and driving back and forth to Gainesville for so many tests.  I think it will always bother me that I don't remember our last anniversary.  I think we were too distracted to really think about it.  Neither of us thought that it might be our last; maybe it was perfect denial, but it never occurred to either of us that he wouldn't survive.  

I've been feeling homesick.  I'll have that feeling of "I just want to go home" - except that I'm sitting on my own couch.  But if I close my eyes and picture the place that I'm longing for - it's Shands. The hospital.  The last place we lived together.  In the mornings I'd got o the snack area and make tea and we'd look out the big window at the sunrise over Payne's Prairie in the distance.  Snuggling in the bed together to watch Jeopardy in the evenings.  I'd take a break to go out to feed the turtles in the holding pond or take treats to the cat colony I found, then come back to tell him about it. We were together.  I was still married.  That was our last home.  I'm homesick.  Maybe someday I'll go back there, just to walk around, stand outside the ward.   I remember Bob taking me to visit our first apartment before the buildings were torn down,  looking at it, remember our first home.  It would be like that; Alpha and Omega.

I continue.  I rebuilt my swing.  Today I got wild impulse and shampooed the carpets.  Next week I have a trip to the dentist (just a cleaning this time, thank goodness) and I'll go check out Spirit Halloween and maybe the local produce store that just opened.  Jeff will be in town next week.  I found out that there's an oddities store in town and I want to go see it.   I'm playing with ideas for the next puppet (Wendigo).
The seasons are moving forward, and so must I.