My “job” –that little business to which I have
clung for fourteen years, now—enhances the tone of opposition my life has
always had, by choice or by chance. It’s
a summer job. While everyone else is indulging
in vacations, barbecues, gardening, yard projects, all that fine-weather
folderol, I am designing promotional materials, purchasing supplies, scheduling
production shifts, and arranging travel and lodging for the next six months’
business opportunities. There’s no doubt
that summer employment puts one noticeably out of step with the rest of the
world.
And since I have never been one
to follow the crowd—have, in fact, intentionally NOT done so most of my life—I don’t
find the peculiarities of my choice of vocation to be overly burdensome. But there are some summertime activities in
which I like to indulge, or have thought I NEEDED to indulge, that get crowded
out during this all-too-short and frenzied season of fun and sun.
I have always loved to adorn
my outside areas with pots of bright summer flowers. At one time, I was quite the accomplished
container gardener. And in more recent
years, I’ve taken on the challenge of attempting to cultivate a
salad/veggie garden. The last couple of
years, since we purchased the building in Junction City that houses our production
facility, the additional strain of running up and down the I-5 corridor several
times a month and spending two or three nights a week away from home, has
turned what were once enjoyable leisure activities into just that many more tasks
staring at me from the dreaded “To Do” list.
This past weekend proved to
be a sort of epiphany for me. It was our
last “free” weekend until mid-October.
Next week, we start our weekly jaunts to Astoria as vendors in the
Sunday Market. (We like the market; it
has been good to us. And the income it
has generated is vital.) The weather was
fine, and it was a perfect opportunity to toil in the yard and get all our
outdoor ducks in a row before we run out of free weekends.
So…
We packed a couple of little
overnight bags, jumped in the van and hustled over to the coast, where we had a
thoroughly enjoyable 36-hour mini-vacation.
Yesterday morning, as we were
about to head across the Young’s Bay Bridge on Highway 101 heading toward
Warrenton from Astoria, I was treated to a sight I have never seen in the
fourteen years we have enjoyed the scenic delights of that area: a line of six white pelicans floated low in
the sky, over the road ahead…we passed right under them. Here in Oregon, white pelicans are generally
birds of inland waters. I have never
seen them at the coast. In fact, I’ve
rarely encountered them at all. Until
this spring; I’ve crossed paths with them unexpectedly several times in the
past six weeks. So, of course, I see
this (finally!) as a message from the Almighty, which I just fully figured out
after I started writing this post.
Pelican tells us to lighten
our load, to unburden ourselves. Not
only to let go of anger and resentments, but to let go of things, activities,
than “no longer serve.” Between pelican’s
visits and our happy “stolen” hours of recreation this past weekend, I’ve come
to realize that, at least now, this “Farmer Lisa” cap that I have felt
compelled to don in the summer no longer
serves. When something that started
out as an enjoyable avocation becomes a task—one for which you have to carve out
time that you really do not have—then it’s time to lay it aside. Perhaps only for a few seasons, until the
time to embrace it again becomes available.
So here’s my new plan for
this summer: I’ll cover the veggie beds with mulch and let
them go fallow. I’ll tend the container
plants I already own (of which there are plenty) but keep the “fuss factor”
down to a minimum. We have so much “deferred
maintenance” that has to be dealt with on the property this summer, I’m sure I’ll
have enough to keep me busy without the additional burden of vegetable and flower
gardens I really have no time to enjoy.
That’s the direction I’m
setting for myself. I’ll head along
that path and see how it goes.