Then take me disappearin'
out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky
with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea...
Bob Dylan Mr. Tambourine Man
I've been informed (by a non-professional) that I suffer from
"reverse seasonal affective disorder" or summer SAD, something those of you in Oregon probably wouldn't understand. I'm not sure about any of the "disorders". It seems to me that what Psychologists call a disorder are simply things that we all experience, just in different degrees. Yes, the degrees can be severe; and yes, the east and west agree that happiness is found in the balance of the middle: Buddha's
Middle Way , Aristotle's
Golden Mean or Confucius's'
Doctrine of the Mean. I like the Philosopher's explanation better than Psychologist, they understand the soul so much better.
The spring-summer brought some very sad times: Uncle Norm's death and Bryan leaving; Nonetheless there are still reasons to be grateful. Christa and Daniel are home, Shellie was here this week, as well as Phil and Cindi coming into town twice. I have been
on the road solid for the first three weeks of July on "workation", "disappearin' out to the windy beach". And I'm just as grateful to be home in the garden, with some rainy weather. I think a
micro burst yesterday gave us over a inch of rain in less than an hour. It was spectacular, possibly the heaviest rain I have ever seen. I'm outside right now enjoying the clouds and cool breeze. The garden is a mess but that will have to wait until it's cool enough to keep things alive. (other than weeds)
The first part of the summer was amazing for Phoenix. The first 100 degree day didn't hit until 21st of May. (Some years it's as early as March). Even much of June was livable.
It was also a blessing having Helen & Larry, as well as Rebbecca (& James shortly) here in May even though it was a sad time with Uncle Norm's death. ("passing" is such a nondescript word with little or no real meaning or relationship to the reality) Uncle Norm loved his garden, and the garden continually reminds me of the ever present struggle between life and death. Every time I look at my bonsai, or think of Uncle Norms bonsai which died under my care this spring, I think of him. He will be missed.
My only remaining bonsai
Aunt Helen's favorite shot from the garden this summer.
