Butterfly Mind

An extra hour a day

October 25th, 2022

I listened to a podcast episode yesterday, How to spend time on what you value, that posed this question: if you had an extra hour each day, what would you do with it?

A million times, I’ve thought, “there aren’t enough hours in the day!” But if I were suddenly given more time, would I spend it in ways that actually brought fulfillment to my life? As they talked about in the show, many of us do find little pockets of time during the day, and we often fritter the minutes away on things we don’t really care about, leaving us feeling empty instead of full.

As I age, I think more and more about time and its finiteness. I think about time running out. With our kids growing up, and driving, and one of them already being out of the house, I’m also faced with a glut of time that used to be filled with my kids needing me: needing me to drive them places, to be at swim and soccer practices and meets, to grocery shop, to feed them. Now the days and years stretch before my husband and me with few obligations other than going to work. Sometimes the emptiness ahead of us is frightening. Nothing dictates how my time is used other than my own decisions about how to use it.

With limited time left in life, I want to spend whatever hours I do have on things that matter to me. After listening to that podcast, I made a list of things I’d do in that hour a day, activities that align with what I value — love, beauty, hope, humor. I know it’s shocking, but “scroll Twitter and Instagram” were not on the list (though sometimes those are good for a laugh).

Instead, my list includes write, read, photograph; walk, see live music, go to art museums, listen to podcasts and learn; play with kitties, go out for coffee, Boba, and food with people I love; garden, hike, people-watch, hang out with friends.

I don’t need to wait for a theoretical extra hour in each day to do these things. The time is already there, in little pockets during the week and in longer expanses on the weekend. The secret is to choose these options when time presents itself.
October garden

October 16th, 2022

The trees are starting to change, leaves are starting to drop, and the colors in the garden are beautiful.

Bronzes and golds and garnet reds

Guess it’s time to put the hammock away

View from the back deck

I cannot get enough of these grasses. I love the gold and copper tassels.

Autumn joy sedum. It’s color just keeps getting deeper.
Cozy

October 2nd, 2022

The world outside is wet and gray. I hear tires spray rainwater on the slick neighborhood street as a car passes by. I sit with my slippered feet propped up on an ottoman and watch the drizzle mist my freshly planted flower boxes. I put in purple cabbages and yellow and purple pansies last week. Grass tassels droop and drip over the velvety pansy leaves. I’ve got a steaming cup of mint tea in the windowsill, along with a book to read while I drink it.

Our son is home from college this weekend, and our daughter just returned from an out of town swim meet. Life feels complete when all four of us are here. I feel a warm fullness, and a sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. I love these people; they’re my favorites.

I made brownies and blueberry muffins for our son, and I stocked up on some of his favorite foods, like fresh pineapple, and orange-mango juice. He and his roommate have a small fridge in their door room, but they can’t be bothered to go to the grocery store to buy stuff like juice. He’s been wearing my WordPress sweatpants since he got home because he forgot to bring any sweatpants, and this is sweatpant weather. I probably should just send him home with those, and get myself another pair.

The cats are happy we’re all here. They’ve got lots of laps to keep them warm during the day, and feet to sleep on at night. I’m happy too.
End of summer in the garden

September 10th, 2022

We have all the windows open, and the world outside is cool and wet. We’ll get a lot of rain tonight. I’m glad — it’ll water in my mums. I’m wearing a flannel shirt, jeans, and socks, and I considered pulling on my slippers. We’re not quite to slipper season yet, though. We’ve got freshly stacked firewood for when that day comes, and judging by the current weather and the flowers in bloom in the garden, that day may be soon.

I took my camera for a walk around the flower beds this morning before the rain began. We are in full on caterpillar season. I need to cut back some of the dead stuff but I don’t have the energy for that right now. So let’s just pretend it’s not there.

Goldenrod and mums

Lantana and goldenrod

Monarch caterpillar on nepeta

Autumn joy sedum

Swallowtail caterpillar on rue

Pink cleome

Front beds

Zinnias taking over

Monarch caterpillars out back, grasses and mums out front
Gentle

August 29th, 2022

I’ve felt very fragile since we dropped our son off at college. I’ve had trouble sleeping, and I feel jittery and strung out. Work has been hectic, which has been hard. My team lead encouraged me to be gentle with myself in the coming weeks because she knew this would be an emotional time for our family, but sometimes work and the world don’t really allow for going easy. There’s too much to do. I’m too far behind. I got Covid two weeks before our son left, and I could not afford to lose that time at work, and I’m still trying to catch up.

I did finish something at work on Friday that had been weighing on me for weeks, and that kept getting shoved to the bottom of my ever-growing list, so I was at least able to sleep this weekend having finally gotten a draft out for review. I feel better after sleeping past 4am on Saturday and then again on Sunday.

My chest still feels thick sometimes despite feeling otherwise recovered from Covid. I mowed the lawn on Friday and it wore me out. Sunday I wanted to get out of the house and out of my head, and I wanted to do that in the woods, on a hike, with my camera. I didn’t feel up for anything strenuous, and it was hot out, so my husband picked a short, flattish hike a little higher up in the mountains where it would be cooler: the War Spur trail near Mountain Lake Lodge, where Dirty Dancing was filmed.

The trail was shaded and green, and the air smelled fresh, especially when we dipped down into a stream-bed where clear water trickled over mossy stones. The hike is known for having lots of mushrooms, and we probably saw two dozen different kinds. They’re delicate little things, fragile but grounded. Those earthy mushrooms, the fat acorns, and a smattering of red leaves in green ferns were what I needed to feel some peace.

Mushrooms and moss, I love the combination (and the little mushroom hiding in the lower right)

Gills and dirt.

Puffball in the understory.

Eight different yellow, brown, copper, and toast-colored mushrooms

I love the gills and cup shape, and the moss and green leaves

Fall is coming, and I’m happy about that.
Everything is about to change

August 17th, 2022

Our son’s room is half packed. His door is open and he’s not here.

He moves out tomorrow. Early in the morning, we’ll drive him the two and a half hours to Charlottesville. We’ll cart duffle bags and laundry baskets full of clothes and Twin XL linens to his dorm room, help him unpack, maybe run around buying stuff we forgot. And then we’ll drive away. I’ll likely sob. He’ll wave and say “SEE YA!” then start his new life.

It’s strange to simultaneously celebrate and mourn not being needed anymore. As parents, our job is to prepare our children to leave us. He feels ready to go out on his own, so I think we’ve maybe done that. And that feels good, and I’m super proud of him and excited for him. The whole world is out there to discover! But it’s hard to let go. His door will stay open after tomorrow, and he won’t come back home to close it. There will only be three of us at the dinner table each night. Tubbles will walk around meowing, looking in every room for him. She won’t find him anywhere. I’ll scratch his Reeses Puffs, American cheese, and bagel requests off my grocery list template.

He’s out with friends right now on his last day. A couple of them have already moved into their dorms at the college here in town. Others will scatter across the east coast in the coming weeks. When he comes home this evening, we’ll go out to dinner together, and he’ll like be packing deep into the night.

At 7 am, we’ll drive away with a car full of him and his stuff. And then we’ll drive home empty.

Good thing we still have our daughter at home.