Today I’ve found peace in the routine of doing laundry. Yesterday my eldest son came by to do his laundry and left after starting a load. He texted later asking if I’d move it to the dryer and start a next one; the clothes were already sorted. When I walked into the laundry, I found a floor covered six inches deep with his clothes in addition to two hampers of ours. The dryer had not been emptied since it was last run and I did not want to deal with any of it. I turned off the light and walked away. No. I did not want to spend the little energy I had doing laundry. I returned to my room, got in bed and watched a movie - the 2023 production of Lady Chatterley’s Lover - with a glass (or two) of Girl and Dragon malbec. And as much as I wanted to attend GLADNEY’s performance at Ashe Culture Center last night, with Aja Monet and Sunny Patterson, I slept through it all. This afternoon a dear friend sent me a clip of him rehearsing before the show. That would have to do.
Appropriate wine in a wood dragon year!
I lingered late in bed this morning. (8 AM is late for me. I am usually awake at 4.) Jim made me coffee then a grits and egg bowl with bacon, spinach and avocado. As he left our bedroom for his weekly sibling Zoom call, I remembered that I had started that call with his mom, before her passing, to support visits with her five children and grandchildren when they were available. The technology glitches were often hilarious. “Can you hear me now? I can hear you but I can’t see you.” It made her happy to see everyone together and I am happy that the calls have continued since 2020. Jim thanked me for initiating their weekly ritual.
I remember the last photo of Eloise sitting in her wing backed chair flanked by her daughters. Kay’s face captured a sense of weary strength in sadness - a determination to make it through to the other side of pain. It reminded me of our family portrait after my mother’s memorial service. I could see the depth of grief in the angle and position of my daughter Adrienne’s crossed ankles and feet as she sat with us in front of the coffin bearing my mother’s remains; others who know her well saw it in her facial expression.
On her last night, all five siblings were together in Lakeview; Susan had come in from Oklahoma and Bill from Texas. I sent food and a bottle of wine with Jim for their dinner together. I gave instructions for finishing the tagine in the oven and received a call from Kathy raving over the food as voices chimed in behind her « The food was amazing! The chicken was so tender! » Bill wanted me to go into catering. I accepted the compliment and was pleased that they had enjoyed this special dinner. I was thankful that they were together with their mom in her final hours and happy to provide food for comfort and remembrance. It was all the support I could offer.
Yesterday I cut roses from the yard for my great grandmother’s vase on the dining room table and my grandmother’s pitcher on the mantel; buds for vases in the upstairs bath and a single stem for a long-necked bottle in my bedroom. I am so thankful to have them and to have started and gifted cuttings to La Source Ancienne Ounfo, my daughter Adrienne, Sean our dear friend and mechanic who has a new greenhouse and most recently to the host of a hotel restaurant. He had noticed that I carried a book about flowers. After seating me, we talked briefly about mutual interests in flowers: my cultivation of old roses and his purchase of bouquets. One day he hoped to grow flowers of his own and I promised him a cutting. As I left the restaurant I said « See you next time. » He lowered his chin to look me in the eye and reminded « and you’ll bring me a rose? » I smiled. « Yes, I promise. »
Kevin was off the following Tuesday when I stopped by with the terracotta pot and two cut blossoms to show which flowers the bush would ultimately bear. He was scheduled to return on Thursday. I assured his colleague that the plant would be fine during that time. Last week when I returned to the cafe outside, he remembered me and told me how delighted Kevin was to receive the rose cutting. And I had kept my promise.
Another staff member, Julia, said hello as I sat working at a table nearest the electrical outlet. I inquired about the airy and whimsical arrangements featuring old roses in the foyer and throughout the hotel. She told me about the florist, then I showed her photos that I had taken recently at the rose garden in Armstrong Park. Peggy Martin roses grow both on the hotel grounds and on a bridge in the park. Yesterday I received an email from her sharing that she and her mother had paid a visit to the rose garden and had a lovely time there together. She thanked me for making the suggestion of a visit - to a place of whose existence she had been previously unaware.
Cramoisi Supérieur
This morning I exchanged messages with Jeanette Bell, a much farther advanced, fellow rosarian. I have admired her garden for over a decade and had questions about the possibility of collecting rose hips. I learned that David Austen roses had replaced all of her old varieties due to popular demand. I was a little disappointed not to have access to rose hips for experimentation with starting from seed but those roses are just as beautiful as any others. Jeanette has encouraged me to continue pursuing my love of gardening and old roses as a lifestyle.
As I recalled this afternoon, my mother-in-law maintained a very tidy home. And I was very careful not to torture myself with housekeeping comparisons while I stuffed all of the clothes on the floor back into my son’s hamper. I removed the sheets left in the dryer, transferred my son’s load from the washer and started a new load of our darks. Then I folded the sheets and returned upstairs. 45 minutes later, I folded my son’s whites, transferred the darks to the dryer and started another load of colors. After having repeated the sequence two more rounds, our laundry was completed and I graciously started a load of my son’s laundry. Shortly thereafter, he arrived to finish the rest. He said that last night’s performance was great and that he appreciated my help with drying and folding his first load of clothes. I didn’t mind at all.
Recently I have spoken with several friends about exhaustion, overwhelm, and boundaries. A bold and always fashionable « NO » is making a comeback. This spring expect to see her appearance in the series « Hmm, I don’t think so »; off Broadway in « Maybe Not » or featured in the French children’s book « Non, Non, et Non. » I am finding comfort in discovering nuances of being and doing: just because I can do something does not mean that I must or that I should do it. I can choose how, when and where to expend energy or replenish it. I am taking pleasure in heeding my own needs and desires over those of others. En ce moment, I only desire to enjoy the sight and smell of my single rose.
