A day of little joys. Mini-joys. Sounds like an ice cream I would like. Almond Joy, of course. Walking down the camp road with Honey-Bear and having her trot. We think the glucosamine is kicking in. She’s trotted two days in a row, now. I almost texted my partner yesterday, “Your dog is trotting!” Little miracle. I pretended it was the beginning of Fall and the place was starting to empty out and become ours again.
Coordinating our work day and having it work out. Finishing mulching the garden. Mulching the path. Filling in potholes. Dismantling a couch, a chair, throwing them into the back of the truck, taking them to the dump. A big, open, dirty space where they were. Starting to see what could be, now that space is opening up. I hear my partner in the other half of the camp looking up at the rafters, the walls, and thinking.
The whole idea of wood chips from our own trees, blown down in a microburst several years ago, milled right there into lumber, the rest chipped. Now on our path and in our garden. The plants relaxed and brightened when the mulch went on. They feel secure.
Today the humidity was all around us, not just up in the sky. Or maybe it was that the sky was all around us, not just above. It rained some, then stopped. We worked in the rain. It never brightened. There’s a sound quality to the air when it’s humid and cool like that, a dampened quiet. Nobody was in sight. Not a sound. We walked past camp Molly and saw a camper shaving by the window. No other people.
Quiet in the head. Two days in a row of peace!
Getting ready to go away for the weekend to the NAFDA conference. The North American Frame Drum Association, in conjunction with several other organizations, is holding a two and a half day frame drum intensive with instructors and performers from all over the world, and I am going. Two of my frame drum teachers will be there, along with the rest of their band of women drummers. I’ll be in classes with them and others who study with them, my drumming community.
I’ll bring four or five frame drums, nested inside each other in one case, a backpack, a shoulder bag. I’ll leave one drum for repair and return with one new one, if I have my way.
I have everything I need, and then some. My partner and I have been talking about radically paring down our stuff. Regardless of where we end up living, I know I want to do this. I have been ready and ready to lighten the load of stuff. Compared to some people I have almost nothing. Compared to going away to college with a footlocker, I have a lot. Somewhere in the middle I would be happy. Trying on clothes for the weekend, several T shirts went into the giveaway pile. Hunting for my drumming notebook, I realized several hundred pieces of paper have to go.
After we came home from camp, I threw together a supper made entirely from locally produced foods. Ground beef, oven grilled; zucchini with basil, parsley, and onion. I went upstairs to do laundry and pack. I have clean sneakers. Can clean sneakers make a person joyful?
Finally, a decision, another mini-joy. After all, I am the author of this blog, perhaps the only one reading it, and the author of my life, so I have decided to suspend the Thirty Days of Joy while I’m away and resume it Sunday night, which will become the new Day 18. This means no laptop and no internet. I can feel the spaciousness already. This weekend, I will fill the well, and when I come back, I’ll share my bounty with you.