But is it art?

The yard has so many things wrong with it, I never know where to start, because I'll never finish anything in the allotted time frame of a weekend. Two maple trees in the back and one in the front are way overdue for radical cutbacks, especially now that the leaves have fallen, but that can only be done in certain kinds of weather, not too cold and not too windy. All the windfall wood from Hurricane Ike has been cut up, split, and stacked to dry, so a certain sense of order prevails with about two cords in the shed. I found time to edge a section of walkway with a couple of hefty 8-foot 4x6 timbers, which should keep the brick pavers in place for a while. I still need to nail the remaining cedar shakes to the back of the house, and I only have enough shakes for one more row. Then what? It's a challenging process working with found materials.

The house presents a different set of problems. My lack of skill and resourcefulness turns any small task into a minifiasco of time-consuming, labor-intensive futility. After several tries, I succeeded in securing with long (4-inch) screws the footboard of a badly designed Ikea bed frame that has been pulling apart for years where the pegs and glue refused to hold weak joints together. Don't ask how many drill bits it took to predrill the hole and how many tries it took to screw up this simple project. Onward to the dining room trim, which isn't straight, nailed to the door frame, which isn't square, next to the ancient plaster wall, which isn't flush. After that it will be something else. With any luck, the tentative good news is that maybe it looks perhaps like we might have a working dishwasher, possibly in time for Thanksgiving, Lord willing and the creek don't rise. But don't bet the farm on it.

The conversation began as a benign inquiry like "How are you?" and developed into a species of negotiation qua information over some undefined exchange of time or money or property. Zelda is all too familiar with how my mind works (either a or b; if a, then c; if b, then d; in short, e) in a linear fashion, so she structures her communication thusly, and after a certain amount of pointed questioning, leaving no stone unturned and most contingencies covered, I have some information I can work with. In this case, there's no need to switch bed frames because all our out-of-town guests have a place to sleep.

The meal consisted of a simple split pea soup heavily laced with carrots, onions, turnips (or were they parsnips?), and a few cayenne peppers, mixed with brown rice for balance, and a slice of freshly baked sourdough bread. Highly adequate!

The workout begins as a simple stretch to relieve the overuse of something, often the lower back, and underuse of something else, probably the abs. Usually I'm taking a break from sitting at my desk, or moving stuff around in the yard, sweeping the leaves off the sidewalk, bringing in wood or giving the fire a poke, and my lumbar spine is talking to me in an insistent tone of voice that I know enough to heed. Finally I put on a hat and gloves and retreat to a sacred space outside to tune the instrument. Feet touching earth, head touching sky, it seems to achieve the desired effect, and now I'll sleep soundly.