I took Friday off last week and thought I might do some garden cleanup — cut back perennials, turn the compost — but I didn’t. I read instead. I finished The Weird Sisters and started Jane Eyre, and really, that’s all I wanted on a cold windy weekend. To lay under blankets and read novels.
Maybe over the Thankgsiving break I’ll take care of the garden. For now I’m publishing photos of the garden in November so that come spring I’ll be able to show the vivid contrast of new life.
It was cold for sailing yesterday, with a high of 48 ℉, but the wind was perfect. It was a steady Force 3 (or maybe Force 4?) breeze, and we knew it would likely be our last chance to sail for the season. We waited until afternoon to catch the warmest part of the day and to give the sky a chance to clear of its low, grey clouds. At 4:15pm we were headed out onto the water while the only other boat on the lake was going in.
The sail was glorious. The wind was the perfect strength to move our little boat near her top speed, and we sailed every point of sail. We ran with the wind behind us, where the water gurgles and and makes pliant sounds because we’re moving with it. We beat into the wind, where the water slaps and makes hard smacking sounds because we’re moving against it. And we sailed back and forth across the lake on a reach, the fastest point of sail, where the water makes fast rattling sounds, where the wind blew my hair from my face, and where we moved so fast we made our own little wake while under sail.
Recent wind stripped the trees of leaves, so most of the fall color is already done. The light itself was beautiful, though. We dropped the jib upwind of the ramp, and took one more trip back and forth across the lake as the sun dropped. Halfway across, I started shivering, and I didn’t stop until we were in the car with the heat on. I’m going to have to figure out a better glove situation for cool weather sailing; my hands are useless when they’re cold and numb. But look at the light!
When we got out of the car at home, I started shivering again, despite wool socks and leggings under my pants, and a tank top, long sleeved shirt, fleece, light down jacket, and wool hat up top. Brian warmed tomato soup while I changed into different fleece layers, and only after the soup and a grilled cheese did I stop shivering. Just to be on the safe side, though, and because I started reading Jane Eyre yesterday and wanted to cozy up with some tea and my book next to a warm hearth, I built a fire while Brian played guitar. I lay next to it and read, warm and cozy after a gorgeous day in the wind.
When our daughter is at her evening swim practice, I drop her off then drive over to a nearby trail, the Huckleberry, where I pop my headphones on and either go for a run or a walk. It used to be that I could go for an hour walk, then drive over to the aquatic center and sit in the parking lot in daylight all the way until practice was over.
Now, the sun sets before 6:30, and I’m lucky if I can get a 30 minute walk in. Next week, after the time changes this weekend, the sun will have already set when I drop our daughter off.
Last night was my final evening walk on the Huckleberry, and it was a spectacular one. The clouds pinked at sunset, and starlings flew in morphing clouds in the cool autumn air.
A hurricane blew through yesterday, or the remnants of one. Zeta. So many named storms this year we’re into the Greek alphabet as well.
It rained all night and all morning. In the afternoon the rain stopped and the wind blew. Not too bad — maybe 20-30 miles per hour for a couple of hours in the late afternoon. Garden plants whipped and bent, trees swayed, and leaves broke free to soar out of our yard and out of sight.
Then the stratus clouds cleared, and compact cumulus clouds popped grey against a blue sky. I made salmon and salad and risotto for dinner, and afterward, after the sun had set and the moon had risen, my husband and I went for a walk around the neighborhood.
A couple of small elongated clouds hung in the dark sky. The clouds were lined in silver-white, backlit by the glowing moon. The sky was midnight blue, and stars twinkled overhead. Bright moonlight cast dark shadows on the silvery-blue street and cast eerie light on tombstones, skeletons, spiderwebs that stretch between trees, and witches stirring a cauldron.
The moon will be full on Halloween this year.
Do you know what you want most, deep down in your truest self? Something you’ve desired all of your life, that’s part of who you are as a person? I don’t.
When I see encouragement to Follow your dreams!, Align your actions with your values!, or to Honor your true desire! rather than staying safe but stagnant, my first thought is, “Gah! I don’t know what my dreams are!”
I don’t know what my true, deepest desire is. Is it to be loved? To be liked? For my kids and the people I love to be happy? Is it to travel? To live near the ocean? Any of those alone doesn’t seem like enough. To be loved or liked or for my loved ones to be happy — all of those are outside of my control, so it seems futile for any those to be my deepest desire. If my true desire is to travel or live by the ocean, why? What is it that I want from those these things?
With travel, I seek new experiences, new scenery, new people to observe. I seek input and learning and expansion so that I’m not contained in my own bubble with limited perspective and understanding. I think I value those things because I seek connection with humanity and the world around us. With my desire to live near the ocean, I think that’s also because I seek connection, but with nature and spirituality. I want to tap into the forces of of the universe, and I feel those best when I’m by the salty sea.
I wonder if this means that feeling a connection is a deep driver for me: connection with both humanity and a higher force that’s bigger than all of us.
When I look at what I do with my free time, this tracks. I read and have always read. I like to read for similar reasons to why I like to travel. I don’t just read for entertainment, thought that’s definitely part of it. I mostly read because I’m fascinated by the millions of experiences of being human. I read to see through someone else’s eyes, to gain perspectives beyond my own. Again, I am drawn the bigness of the human experience, and the world, and the universe. We have an infinite future and a deeper history than I’ll ever be able to compass. But I do want to be a part of it.
I desire connection, this I see. This is good, because connection doesn’t have to be put off until I retire. But I don’t know if that’s my true desire, if it’s my dream. If connection is my true desire, I still don’t know the deepest why, I don’t know why I want to be connected to something bigger than me. Is it because I don’t want to feel alone? Is it because I desire to share goodness and love and empathy with others? Is it just because it feels good to feel connected? Maybe it’s the latter, and deep down I’m just a hedonist.
Do you know your deepest desire?
My lunchtime reading this week has been excellent. Monday I devoured Little Fires Everywhere. SO GOOD. Today, I’m revisiting The Weird Sisters, the book my blog’s name came from, and a book I reread every few years because it’s just so fun.
The problem with lunchtime reading, though, is that it makes it hard to go back to work.
Butterfly Mind 