A bit of therapeutic killing

We seem to have very little time together as a family these days. Too much going on now the kids are older, and this weekend was no exception. Although there was nothing big scheduled - no overnight camps or anything - we all seemed to have our own separate ways to go for much of the time.

I like gardens. I like sitting in them, reading a book and sipping beer. But I'm not a big fan of gardening. So when my wife & daughter came back from a bottle drive and suggested we spend some time cleaning up a bed that's become infested with grass, it wasn't my idea of a fun time. Not after looking after the house all day...dishes, laundry, food, etc.

But it was remarkably therapeutic rooting out those pesky green shoots, trying to get at the roots, thinking, "Die, you vermin, die!" The sun was out, we worked side by side and talked, cracked jokes, daughter brought us milkshakes...family time at last.

Unexpected encounters

On my cycles to and from work, I often see deer on or near the trail. That has become so commonplace in the past couple of years that I no longer think much of it. But it is still a delight when I see an animal closer to home and unexpectedly. I was driving near my home today when I saw something coming towards me by the side of the road. Too big for a dog...wrong shape...it's a deer. I slowed for a close look before it bounded away through someone's front garden, but it reminded me how wonderful it is that we still have large wildlife amongst us.

Occasional lapses of laziness

For some reason, I'm finding it very difficult to wake up these days. It's a struggle to force myself out of bed.

Just once in a while, like this morning, I peered at the alarm clock and adjusted it, awarding myself another quarter hour of rest. It felt good. I was a few minutes late in to work but no more than many people, and just once in a while it's OK.

I'm glad to have that little luxury to get me off to a better start.

Once in a while.

Mountains

As I drove down the highway this morning, I was treated to a stunningly clear view of the mountains.

Although they are only a few miles away, they are often invisible, cloaked in cloud or haze. Sometimes, on a clear day, the snowy peaks shine in the distance, but on those days they are often almost lost against the dazzling sky.

Today, they hulked above a bed of cloud, side-lit by the morning sun, and framed by more tumbling masses of cloud. They looked almost close enough to touch, with details of their lower slopes picked out with rare clarity.

Sights like that lift my spirit, and more than make up for the grey damp of the past week.

Small courtesies

Something happened as I cycled home from work on Friday that reminded me how it is the little things in life that often make the difference.

I was slogging up a long hill near to home, when a transit bus pulled past me and stopped at a bus stop just ahead, half-straddling the cycle lane. I slowed, expecting to have to stop while passengers disembarked, then I realized that nothing was happening and the driver was watching me in his side mirror waiting for me to pass before he opened the door.

He didn't have to do that, and it was quite unexpected. I salute that anonymous transit driver for reminding me that some people can still find the time in their lives to be considerate to others.

Another day to live

A blogger friend has been silent for the last couple of weeks, and just posted the reason why: her boyfriend has been diagnosed with a serious and incurable blood disease. Not in immediate danger, but they are both coming to terms with a stark reminder of their mortality.

And yet, this is also a reminder that the universe is not kind. This couple may be facing a future that seems short and bleak, yet what's to say that my time with my family will be any longer? Tragedy can strike at any moment. My future is no more certain that theirs.

So, today I am reminded of the sage advice to live each day is if it were your last, and I am thankful for another day to live.

A full fridge

I came home from the weekly shop and started to put away the groceries.

I had some difficulty. The fridge was already full. Every item I went to put away, I had to get ever more creative, rearranging, stacking, taking stuff out that I knew we'd want for lunch, only to have to find room for it a while later. Alongside all the usual fridgely inhabitants, there's several bits of leftovers, and cartons of home-made sweets that my wife and daughter made at Guides. Several cartons and jars that are nearly empty and will leave room fairly soon, but not just yet.

It was becoming a task fit for a MENSA-level IQ test. I started to get frustrated. Then I realised, what a wonderful problem this is to have in the first place. How many people in the world would long to have this problem? I should be thankful, not angry.

And I am.

I still haven't found room for that half-empty carton of milk, but you know what? I don't care.