Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Not May, Not Even April

A crocus in dry grass at Walnut Grove cemetery last week - the day of the first crocuses. They were scattered in one area. You couldn't tell where the original bunch had been planted. I took this with our "old" Fuji digital, from 2003, determined to learn everything it could do before I set my heart on something fancier. This is the macro setting, getting about 4 inches from the flower.

It is lovely here today - soft, springlike blue sky, crocuses up everywhere. I feel spring fever coming on, that useless, dawdling mood.
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Sheba just got me to stop everything, move the book that was in her spot under my desk lamp, turn on the lamp, and pet her attentively and at length. I have admired her head and ears exceedingly, while she looked up into my eyes in a swooning kind of way and purred, evidencing great pleasure.

It is that time of day - one of the times of day, when Sheba demands what Tom calls "a petfest." There are two ways to do this. One is rather idly knuckling her head, patting her, while doing something else, like watching TV or thinking in front of the computer. Another is to give her total attention. Since I was just reading some Taoism about how our life is all about relatedness, I stopped and related to her. So now she is sitting relaxed, front paws curled under her chest, and just barely purring. Idling.

But how is this a spiritual issue? Anyway, aren't our pets a sort of trivial addendum to our more powerful, important lives, like the houseplants we admire and buy and set somewhere and then don't give much thought to, or forget about - things that live or die depending on us.

Well, that's enough. I am reminded that I am trying to help my clover come back from near-death, and I have to go water it.

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