|Big thanks to neighbor Dave|
for recycling so much pottery to the curb this weekend.
Love this pitcher!
It's a funny time for me right now, beautiful and broken at the same time, perfect and yet filled with longing. I love this part of the spring so much, the first real go at the planting, everything manageable still, the space between rows in the garden boxes clear. By July, the garden will be packed with vegetation, and I will feel more pressure to stay on top of it all, to re-seed and eat, not let all that effort, ours and the plants, go to waste. At its peak, it's glorious and ultimately exhausting, so that the fall is always a sweet time of shutting it down, recovering from all of that busy.
But I'm getting way ahead of myself.
Right now, like I said, is funny.
I suppose what I mean is that it's novel to be just Joe and me, just the two of us. We spent pretty much all weekend together, from Friday at 6 until now, Monday morning, with just two little bits of apartness. It was bliss: we drove to Sebastopol and picked up our new bees Saturday morning, set up two hives, one at home and one at the shop; puttered around the garden; went to a friend's birthday party; turned and harvested compost; amended a garden bed and planted; went out to dinner last night and saw Jane Eyre. Delightful.
In the more than two decades that we've been together, the time we've spent à deux has been the rarest of commodities. Our life together has always included a child, now grown, and, for the last almost-14 years, a dog baby. It has also almost always, and particularly in the past 5 years, included activities that kept us busy with our separate hobbies and friends, training and racing for Joe, yoga for me. It has never been just two. And with Joe injured now and off the bike, it has only rarely been just two, home together, moving at the same speed.
Believe me, I'm not complaining. It's possible that the many conditions of our lives that have made it rare for us to be alone together are the very reason why, when I see Joe, even after just being apart for a couple of hours or a day, I still wag with my whole body. I look at him even now and still can't believe my good fortune.
As we approach our 22nd First Date-iversary, I wonder truly how much time we have spent alone together. Would it even add up to one year?
It's remarkable how sweet the time in each other's company is, how grateful I am for it, even now. It's as if we're embarking finally on a new adventure, down to 2, with everything we need. Truly lovely. Deeply sweet.