Cherry Tomato in a Pot
As I sit here on my patio in the early evening the sun is still high in the sky. (You would understand if you lived in the Pacific Northwest. The sun won’t set until after 9:30 tonight.) The sun feels so wonderfully warm on the right side of my face, and then the cooled by the western breeze that makes the aspen leaves flicker in the wind. OH I need to water my little garden. So I get up and water with the hose.
The garden at my house really isn’t a garden at all. Two tomato plants in pots with flowers in pots surrounding them, and that is what I call my garden. I know it’s not much to look at, at least when you compare this garden to those at the corner of SE 10th and Ellsworth, where there are multiple gardens growing next to each other.
A few years have past since I first started thinking about my garden. What would it look like, how much would I grow, and then reality set in. A big garden would be overwhelming for me and as much as I’d like to grow food I’m not sure I could handle a large garden. This year I started very small.
Two tomato plants is all there is and I’m Okay with that. One plant is a cherry tomato and the other, here’s the exciting part, is a heirloom purple tomato. I can’t wait to see what grows this year. Will the purple really be purple or a dark red that maybe looks like it could be purple if the light hit it in just the perfect angle?
Well there are only 2 cherry tomatoes that I can find, but a lot of flowers and the purple has a lot of flowers as well. So time will tell what my little garden will produce. I wonder if my tomatoes will be sweet.
Sitting out on my patio in the early moring hours waiting for the day to begin drinking my cup of coffee in my “Sinceriously” mug my mind wonders from here to somewhere else. The bell for the high school rings telling the students it is time to get to class, and the bell tells me it’s 7:45am. The same school where both of my kids (Robi and Dylan) graduated. Remembering the day that Dylan died is painful and writing about it brought everything back to the surface once again. This time, however, it didn’t hurt as much as it had in the past. So maybe writing about this in my Personal Essay was a good thing, well we’ll go with that for now.
When I started my essay, I had a hard time writing it. Well to be more honest about it I agonized over it for a week (that was all the time I had to finish it) I wanted to tear it up. I wanted to put it back in the box and not bring up the subject again, but something kept his death at the forefront of my thinking and nothing I tried to write aside from his death was working. So I kept at it and kept writing. Turns out maybe I did a good thing here, but it’s not completed yet.
I gave my essay to a friend here in town because on my last assignment for this class I only received one critique for my work, and I don’t feel it was enough. I’m glad I did. Not only did she correct grammar issues, but gave me some solid ideas as well. My ending wasn’t right and I knew that from the moment I wrote it, but I didn’t know what to do. I was stuck. My friend suggested that I bring it around to the my little house or something like that. I think this is a good idea. Now just doing it will be difficult.
The one critque I have from my classmates is a really good one. This classmate had a different view of what I wrote (oh go away sun, I can’t see the sceen if you come out now) She suggested that I change up the beginning to give it a sense of continuity in the description of my neighbor hood. I like that idea. In one paragraph she has suggested changing up the sentences so the emotional impact would be better. And I have to admit, it sounds better with her suggestion here.
Maybe writing this essay was good for me. Maybe others will read it and say “WOW” and sit back in their chair thinking ‘how could a woman go through that?” I don’t know. But my hope with this essay is to give a small piece of my heart to others and let them see what I’ve gone through.
Waking early in the morning used to be an aspect of my life I didn’t appreciate, but now that’s changed. I love the quiet of the early morning. In my neighborhood, I don’t hear cars started up and leaving at this hour, and I don’t hear school busses drive down the street. It’s 6:30am and all is well.
After thinking about these early mornings of mine I find that I truly enjoy being out on my patio when the day is beginning. The birds are the only animals making any noise, except for my dog Brodie who can’t stop trotting around the yard. Ah the dove’s down the street begin their call and that sound always reminded me of Kenya. Finally I hear a bell from the high school three blocks away, but it’s really early for a bell there to go off. (must be set for daylight savings times, I really don’t know) My flowers are doing well and so are my tomatoes which reminds me I better water them today.
Yes I really enjoy this time of the morning. Coffee, Brodie, and sitting outside on my patio. It’s the best part of my day.
Earlier this evening, well yesterday actually, a Memoir piece was due for my English 530 (Fundamentals of Creative Non Fiction) class. I began writing earlier in the week, but what I was writing was crap! Well it wasn’t crap as crap goes, it just didn’t feel right to me. My head kept telling me what I needed to write, but my heart kept holding me back from writing. I didn’t want to write this piece. I didn’t want to share that day with my classmates. I don’t have a good “read” on them yet, and I’m unsure of how they will react.
Now I think I just might post it here when it is completely and totally finished. Right now the draft is still just a draft and not fit for any type of publication. When I do finally post it, I hope people understand that this piece wasn’t easy to write and relive.
I’m finishing up my first quarter of Graduate studies. YES, you read that right. I’m working towards a Masters in English and Creative writing. Why? Well why not? The old man wanted me to work on my PhD, but that would be in Education and that just isn’t where my heart lies anymore. So English and Creative Writing is what I’m working on.
This first quarter has been fun, irritating, fun, frustrating, fun, and a lot of work. BUT I’m having fun. Supposedly this program is difficult, well that’s what I’ver been told. Although I don’t find it to be all that difficult. I do get a little miffed with feminist criticism and I have to laugh at how some student’s fall into that one. I just love it when they write about how this male author wrote the female characters as flawed etc etc….Well hell, then don’t read that crap! OH and how in the Victorian era sexuality was not discussed at all. I hate to tell them, but sexuality wasn’t even on the radar until about the 1960s when the whole free love movement hit the country. Now, that’s not the case. Some of these student’s weren’t even born in 1971 when so much changed with film. 1971 and prior families can sit down and watch just about any film produced. It was after 1971 when films began to change, and now we have “Shades of Gray” on film. AND no I haven’t read it, nor have I seen the film.
Well I need to get back to my papers that are due Sunday at 8:59pm (11pm on the East Coast)
My books and stuff for my classes this quarter.
Easter is almost here. Tomorrow we shall celebrate the day Christ rose from the grave. I’ve been to that place where he walked out of the tomb. I will never forget that day, it was awesome. Today was interesting to say the least.
I went to Barnes and Noble to work on my paper, and have a coffee drink too. I’m glad i went because I got a lot done for my paper, which is a very good thing. I felt really good, I was very content while I was trying to get this paper together and make sense. (not an easy thing either) Then on the way home I was sure I would be able to put this paper together by the middle of this next week. After I finally got home I realized I had to go to the grocery store because I had nothing here in the house. Not that I need a lot of stuff, but it was down to the crumbs in the pantry.
So off to the grocery store I go. Now normally I don’t relish going to the grocery store to “shop” for food stuff. I’d rather spend my time doing something else. BUT today was so different. I so happy driving to the store, while I was in the store, and coming home from the store. I don’t think I’ve been that happy in like forever. Well in the last 10 years or so. It is so weird to have the feeling of “happy” because that has been so illusive for me since Robb died.
Maybe this season is coming to a close for me. Maybe life will turn a corner in the next year. who knows, maybe I’ll publish the next great book coming out of the United States. Well maybe not, but a girl can dream can’t she?
There are times when I look at someone and I see their parent or their child. This happened a few times with Robb. Once we were driving and out of the corner of my eye I saw Jack, Robb’s dad. I must admit it did freak me out when it happened. Then another time I was in the kitchen and Robb had that same look as Jack did when he was telling a funny joke, and Jack had a lot of great jokes. But that’s family for you, but I noticed something today that I haven’t really paid attention to OR never associated these two people together.
I was substituting at Evergreen High School here in town yesterday and today. Because today is the last day of classes before Christmas break (do we even call it that now?) we were watching the movie Elf with Will Farrell and James Caan. Let me make myself perfectly clear, I’m not a Will Farrell fan, and I can’t call myself a James Caan either, but I have a bit more appreciation for him now.
While watching the movie, I noticed the James Caan character had the same facial expressions, body movements, and language sounds just like Scott Caan, the son of James Caan. OH man, talk about two peas in a pod!! It seemed to me that with each scene where James Caan was in his facial expressions, body language, and diction was just like his son, Scott Caan. Now I know that most kids look like their parents in some way, but this was acting in a movie that surprised me. I watch Scott Caan all the time on TV’s Hawaii 5O. I swear father and son say “felony” exactly the same. Now I want to know in their own lives are the as much alike as they are on film?