Sunday, June 25, 2006

the tractor is working, the grass is growing

I’ve finished reading Under the Tuscan Sun (Frances Mayes) and am now deeply into Unless, by Carol Shields, that deceased but nevertheless still contemporary and amazing Canadian writer who turns the ordinary into the sublime. My life these days is partially defined by what I’m reading: I find I think and write in the style of the particular novelist or poet, although it’s usually a novelist. Mayes has an easy way of talking, unsurprisingly, since her topic is rather laidback, renovating a house in Tuscany, making delicious food, not worrying about the bank balance. Shields is more descriptive, analytical, a tad desperate but also reassuring. I wish over and over that it would have ever been possible to have tea with this woman, but I never knew her and now she is dead and gone.

Life is good when the latest news is about the tractor. I don’t care if I sound like a hermit to some, this is how I’m happy these days: tea, my book, my feet up. Or, working, and kept busy by tourists, clay, cleaning, music. The summer starts to speed up (visitors, holidays, tours, weather, plans!!) and I start to dig my heels in, the Taurean nature hating change and hating chaos, but I will ease that part of me into the odd social engagement. Now time for Baddeck for a day off, to wander my mother's garden and see what has grown in the past week. And maybe get to that shouting, "pelting" Internet and see what else people are saying...or not.

(I think that I should be careful, soon I'll have no friends, no-one will want to talk to me, when I try to be alone so often! As I said to Kathy today, "But guilt is my favorite emotion!" Then again, there's something to be said for the occasional bout of self-imposed monkhood.)

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