Flat Tires, Weeds, Bees and Grace

Somehow, I had a day off today. I usually work on Saturdays. Sometimes, it is my busiest day. I should confess that I had a client who wanted an appointment, but I turned it down because I already worked a lot this week (maybe too much?) and didn’t want to drive to town for one. It’s the cost of gas, but also the time away from home: an hour of driving for an hour of work? There was a season when I gladly would have done that (when gas was $2.00 a gallon?), but not any longer.

Of course, then someone else contacted me who wanted a massage. They were so hopeful! Realistically, I could have texted the first person and told them I was available after all, and then scheduled a second one, and then it would have made sense gas wise for me to drive to town.

But I didn’t.

All week I was looking forward to having the day off. I wanted an uninterrupted block of time to play in the yard. Yard play is therapeutic for me and always brings a jolt of joy. But then I walked around the yard a bit yesterday, taking it all in, and got an unwanted reality check.

The yard is a disaster.

It needs a lot more than what I could give it in a day. It needs more than what I could probably ever do by myself.

I call it play, and try to frame it that way, but honestly? It’s a mess. We already had one round of weed eating done, but you couldn’t tell anymore. In past years, I believed that I might actually make progress on the weeds and eliminate them. In no time, I would coax my yard back into a blissful state of native plant wildness. I was so optimistic! If I pulled enough of the evil fern like weeds, put down cardboard and mulch, stayed on top of things, then maybe come spring there would be less of them. Maybe they would even go away!

They have not gone away. They are everywhere.

The wildflower patch that I nurtured in the front yard didn’t come back this year (although the fresh round of seeds I planted in the back are doing well). The native daisies that I babied last year don’t seem to be emerging, or the poppies at the bottom of the yard that did so well last year. The yarrow is doing OK. But of course it is. It is yarrow! My catalpa tree isn’t looking so good either. My neighbor pointed out that all of the catalpas in the neighborhood look dead. Maybe it’s too early to give up on them, but I am worried that the Stormageddon blizzard we had in December did them in.

We will see.

I  had to take down my hummingbird feeders yesterday because they were being swarmed by bees. I’ve never seen so many bees at the feeders. The poor hummingbirds were flying around, looking lost and confused. The beautiful Tanagers that I welcomed last week were nowhere to be seen, because apparently, that many bees are annoying.

We had a flat tire this week. When I finally was home long enough to call AAA, they assured me that a  flat tire repair person would be along to save the day. I contacted them at 5:48 pm.  The AAA app assured me that a service advisor would arrive by 8:42 pm.

Three hours? That seemed like a long time. I understand, of course, that they are busy. Probably understaffed.  But were they driving from Reno? San Francisco? Tahoe?

In the end, they never arrived. We waited and 8:42 came and went. I called the 1-800 number again, and the AAA representative said they were having trouble even reaching the tow truck driver. By 9:30 pm, I told them to cancel the call, that I would try again tomorrow.

Isn’t that strange?

What is the world coming to when you cannot rely on AAA anymore?

It is a world of weeds, I guess. A world of flat tires, $5.69 a gallon gas, and bees that overrun your hummingbird feeders. Not to mention a few other problems that I don’t need to mention here: I’m sure you can think of plenty.

Sometimes in the evening after a long work week, the world looks dark. My wise friend reminds me never to make important decisions when I am lonely, tired, or hungry. I probably shouldn’t fall into despair about the state of the world (or my yard) at these times either. Best to settle in with a good book, so I can lose myself in someone else’s writing and mercifully forget my own for a time. Maybe drink some water. Take a walk to the post office. I’d most likely run into a neighbor or two, and a little chat always does wonders for my spirits. Sit on the red couch with Biscuit. Watch the sun go down at the back window.

Try to remember the millions of gifts that surround me. Because the flat tire was an annoyance, but not a crisis, since we had the trusty red CRV, which was a gift from a sweet friend who hopefully will read this and realize once again how her generosity has blessed us.  We had only driven about 100 feet from the house on our way to drop my son off at school when we realized what was going on, so it was easy to turn around and thump thump thump back to our very own driveway. He wasn’t even late. Also? Apparently you can set up a bee feeder station with a sugar water solution that is sweeter than what the hummers like (with pebbles and rocks in the bottom of the shallow dish, so that nobody drowns) and that can care for the bees and the hummingbirds and Tanagers, too.

Mostly?

Trust that tomorrow will be a new day. I can call AAA again, and odds are good that someone will show up this time. I can go outside and focus on a very small part of my yard and care for it. Not to despise the small beginnings. To remember the grace that surrounds us. To show up as best I can. Which is all any of us ever has to do.