Decontructing the hayrove tomato umbrella is a sure sign of resolution
We have entered into the resolution season. I don’t mean the kind inspired by a New Year, but the “return from a pathological to a normal condition.” I can tell because my wardrobe lies in chaotic transition: the warm winter clothes half regurgitated from the box they lived in all summer but the light summer clothes still hanging on as I check and re-check the weather forecast. Saturday was sleeveless, Sunday was sweater-fest. I can also tell because I did absolutely nothing productive on Sunday. And very little today. There are still “to do” lists, of course, but I glance at them with a wary eye and find it easier and easier to put forth the procrastination effort. There are very few crises these days. With most of the summer crops gone, their fields turned and cover crops sown, we turn our heads toward winter rest and restoration. Toward the return of a slow daily cycle. We await the inevitable frost with a hands-folded, quiet, monk-like acceptance. We embrace it like a long absent lover.