The dust that clings to our boots as we tromp through the yard is tracked back into the house. The weeds we appreciate because at least something's green on the back grass. Everything partners here and everything plays a role.
There is beauty in incompleteness. The weeds jockey for position all spring and summer, being pulled and mowed down, and springing up to make another run. They stand now brown and reedy, giving up in the heat of summer, completely unaware they will be back.
Change is indiscernible, and I'm more than ok with it. There is no stopwatch here, no big fancy event we need to host. In these rambling thoughts, I look out at the tangible changes we have forgotten about, the workshop and garage, irrigation out front and gardens out back with a rinky-dink drip system that criss-crosses the yard and keeps things alive.
The work part of 'work in progress' seems to involve thinking and talking out where the wildflower garden should be with the butterfly bushes, and how to devise a seasonal greenhouse over the garden. Should we or should we not invest in gutters and rain collection barrels? What are the pros and cons of solar panels? We seem focused on 3 things: what do we need, how do we get there, and when do we start. It seems we are working towards becoming honest and true self sustainers.
Before all that happens, we are collecting unusual bottles for the bottle wall, and wondering if this climate zone can sustain a Pistachio tree and Lemon Eucalyptus. We walk around framing in squares with our hands: here is perfect just as it is; here will be the deck, and here someday a porch room to sit out in the evenings and look at the stars.
Part of this involves trusting things we can see (the little blue Well) and things we can't see (the Septic). We drive by fields of alfalfa that are being overwatered and furrow our brows in concern. We look for, and miss, the Great Horned Owls and wonder where they are raising their baby. I'd have never given any of that a second thought in the city.
The feral cats are fed and watered and all we hope is for whatever they can give back. Just like the land, slowly but surely, we feel ourselves as magnificent works in progress, too.
