Didn't mean to but I ended up getting the fire started this morning anyway. Cup of tea. Looking at this happy wreck of a cottage. I've already had one shower outside cutting wisps of the akebia over the back gate. As I don't really like being woken up with a puppy nose shoved up mine (and I'm not really complaining), I also don't really like getting my head tangled in the akebia vineage (sp?) that lives over the gate every time I go to unload my car or bring out the recycling. I had some run ins with the elderberry near the corner of the house and the hops that grows over the front trellis. If it hits my head when I am moving about, then it has to have a haircut. This morning's cold shower was a fun, little wake-up but as soon as ithe fire gets into its groove, I will have a hotter version (without the bugs).I used to love the once in awhile occasions when my mother would start a fire in the mornings--sometimes even on a cold summer morning---and I (probably other kids, too, but I can't remember) would curl up there in bathrobe, with tea and watch her add milk cartons or other paper recycling. Sometimes we would talk. She wouldn't be there for long, but it was cozy and warm and lit, and even this morning, makes me think of her with a smile on my Heart. Then there was usually some baby banging a spoon on the metal tray in the kitchen and the next moment held something different...which brings me to my primary chewable thought for today.
Last week I was on about perspective. Really everything is about perspective. It's the only thing that defines truth (with a lowercase t)...case in point, just come to any recess where the kindergartenboys are playing any game at all with a ball and teams...and what ensues is always a scrum about "perspective"..they think it is about rules but it ain't. I got got in the muck of it earlier this week trying to be Ms. Fair On The Playground Matroness--kid came up, crying that another kid wouldn't let him pitch and they were playing their version of kickball.It was Monday. I had energy (sor of). We went off to solve this. I even had to confiscate the ball to get them to talk. So we take a long time to do this (about 45 seconds) and thought we had a solution ready to go--taking turns--how clever is that?!?!--and the no sharing perp is still looking at me like I am some wicked monster. I looked at him and said "WHAT?!" HE says--Teacher--that kid isn't even on my team. He's on the team that's kicking right now.--I stopped. I looked at the other kids. I asked him if this was true. He said it was. I'm dumbfounded. I feel stupid. I turned to the other kid and said "You're not even on his team? Then why are you making a fuss about his pitching when its your team's turn to be up?" He couldn't tell me. He had wanted to pitch. Period. I gave the ball back to the other kid, apologized for interrupting the game, and scuttled back to my perch nearer to the tennis players....aauughh--perspective.

Digesting some news that one of the couples I had counted in my forever cupboard is going through a shift. Change. Here it is again. No, this morning isn't about change. It isn't about hope or getting your hands dirty or aphids in your hair either. It's about my reaction to the change. I'm still inside. Not numb. Just still. I feel some soft sadness. There may be grief over this later. I love all involved. I am observing that what is living in me now gives me some (and some of the time) wisdom and an automatic shift to step back and away. Not run away. Just step back. And look again. And see. Perspective. And change. I'm able to do it at school. And believe me, I am.
I am doing it around this house and garden. Somethings have shifted here. It's not that I don't care. I don't care in the same way. And I am still committed to cleaning up my messes and eliminating drama from my sphere, I have so much less to clean (even though it looks like a tornado around here) and the drama can go hang out by the kickball game and play in the spot behind the sorry little cyprus shrubs when it doesn't get to pitch.