Just a quick update. A little shaky this time around, chemo #2, but not as bad as the first round. A dose reduction has helped and some acceptance that I am, and always have been, sensitive to medications, especially those that affect heart rhythms. A bit of a boost now though hopefully means that the end of the summer will also be a bit more manageable.
Garden time always brings joy, and this glowing pink hydrangea peeking out from behind the Japanese maple brings me joy each and every day. I could just sit on the lawn lost in its loveliness. The daylilly in front of the maple is also going to bloom. I have forgotten everything about it, its name, its color. Too much digging, too much trauma. It hasn't bloomed in two years, but apparently has survived and is now coming back with strength. There is hope in that don't you think?
Agretti. A new to me green vegetable, which I adore. Simply served here with a drizzle of olive oil and a dusting of lemon zest and Aleppo pepper. This came from GirlnDug Farm, my winter vegetable indulgence. I am going to try to grow some next spring although apparently it is tricky and a bit difficult. But that is what makes gardening fun. I don't want to stop supporting local farmers, and yet there is joy and satisfaction in harvesting a. bit of one's own food, of fresh peas from the garden, a fully ripe tomato, perhaps a vegetable one loves but does not find easily. Earlier this spring I attempted to grow spigiarello, another new to me Italian green related to sprouting broccoli. A late start and neglect resulted in a tiny yield, but perhaps next year will be better. I had visions of sharing spigariello with all my greens-loving friends. Plagued by hopes and dreams and visions of excess, I can't help but seem to be carried away. And yet the trick seems to be not in disappointment over dreams not fulfilled, but in the joys of discovering precious new things, new growth, tiny bowls of Italian greens.
Ah yes! Hidden in the middle, but perhaps most important of all! Hair. The requisite car selfie after leaving the wig shop. I love my new hair. I love the silver highlights. Admittedly I had silver highlights but not this many, and long covid hair appeared more dark, too dark for my aging paleface. It was time for short. And my hair, or at least my old hair, was too fine to hold this kind of off the face look no matter what I put in it. I like the shape of my head. I like a hat or a turban. I fully believe that there is no shame in cancer and no reason not to embrace the fact of it. But, I also love my wig, and yes, it has brought a spark of joy.
The Shade Garden. It does seem that so much of my joys revolve around moments in the garden this year and I remain grateful for that, that enough is planted that I have these peaceful vignettes, these places of escape and repose, where all is good with the world and my soul is washed clear of its troubles. I sat in one of these chairs one morning, facing away from the hydrangeas, facing toward the vegetable garden, watching the cardinals eat my peas, battle over who got the best peas. I have had my own good fair share, so I don't mind. It seems there is always something new to learn, some new drama, some newly discovered peaceful release.
And then there are all the little things. Having the energy to fill the two small planters in the front yard with flowers. A kind neighbor who brings my garbage can down to the garage from the street after trash collection. Surprise gifts of cuddly blankets. Family who stop by with shishito peppers just because they know I love them, love both family and the peppers in fact. A snuggle from my grand-puppy. All these things are a world in and of themselves. Sometimes I think we, or at times I at least, get wrapped up in thinking about all the grand things to see, to do, but in reality, perfection is in these little things.
