the B word

There was one word that was forbidden in our house when my kids were growing up. That was the infamous B word.

Should some one say the word they were reminded that it was not allowed.

Now i find myself deep into the space where that word applies.

For the most part I am bored out of my head. I take care of the garden, I write in my journal, I sit.

Of course I should follow my own rule: “Find something to do so you are not bored.” At this age that is not as easy as it once was. I should and could be making art, but there is no fire about it. I might be writing a book, but for sure there is no fire there.

Maybe it is not about fire or fun. In art, particularly sculpture, the idea, the real creative part is the fun and quick part. The rest of the piece, up to the point you put your name on it, is just plain discipline and hard work.

So, get back to work little davy. Churn out something or other.

Just do it.

We are back home again. The garden is watered (good neighbor) but the grass and weeds are high.
Still home is the most wonderful to be.
For a while, at least.

tools

When Daughter 1 asked/told me we were going to her house, I asked her what she might want me to do while I was there.

Few things are worse than wanting to do something useful and not having the right tools, even though I own the right tools. So I asked.

“A simple trellis over the trumpet vine, would be great.”

I am not sure she used the word “simple” and if she did i choose not to hear it! A good trellis does not touch the wall, but sits out a foot of so. It also is hinged in such a way that it can be lowered, in case the wall needs to be painted or such.

As you can see this is getting more complex. I brought most of the right tools, and son in law had the rest, so that was OK.

But it was hot and I do not do well working very long in high heat, so it was done in bursts. By the time it was finished it was a couple hundred pounds of wood, but once in place it worked and looked just as I had envisioned.

These vines are on the west side of the kitchen. The summer sun beats against the wall raising the kitchen temp. Even an empty trellis will help cool the house.

We are going camping for a couple of days. No phone, no internet, lots of quiet.

fair?

Life is not fair said the preacher.

He knows of what he speaks. I have known him since we were in college together a very long time ago. His wife was editor of the college year book and i was the photographer.

It was a summer sermon at the college, now university church. The regular pastor was on vacation as were the students. My friend had been pastor, but years ago he gave that up to be a chaplain and a professor. He is in the navy reserves as chaplain and is very high rank. He is a really good guy.

He and his wife had to daughters. After one of them graduated from college she got a summer job in Washington DC and there she was tragically and brutally murdered. She was about 22.

Not too many marriages survive that kind of thing but theirs did, and yet when he spoke about all of this he was sympathizing with his audience and if I did not know his history I would not be at all aware.

But he was right. Those who deserve to die young of horrible diseases do not, and the good go way too soon. The bright do not always inherit the kingdom, nor the good the large pension.

But what do we do? We can feel superior or we can feel neglected, but neither is really best. In spite of it all, there is a great deal of randomness in our universe. We, the good guys, do not always win.