RainbowTrout of Flourish
Aug. 15th, 2019 09:29 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ismoGuess what I saw when I went on my walk this morning! A WHITE HERON. I'm almost certain it was a white heron, not an egret or a crane. I've seen both cranes and egrets, and I think I would know. It flew up out of the pond, probably startled by someone walking on the path beyond, and into the top of a pine tree. There it alighted, silhouetted against the dark green of the tree and the grey overcast sky, pure sparkling white. While I was still rejoicing in the sight, it took flight again and circled the pond slowly, giving me a perfect view of its amazing long wings, before soaring off toward the lakes. What a beautiful gift for the day!
The Sparrowhawk is testing a theory that when he gets tired during the day, actually getting horizontal will be more effective than, say, napping while sitting up. (I believe I've suggested this a couple of times, but far be it from me to say I told you so.) So at one point, he decided to go upstairs and lie down, and I went upstairs too, because it's nice for him to know I'm nearby. I had potential work to do up there: getting into the attic and beginning to sort out some things that are stored there. Once upon a time, I collected action figures like there was no tomorrow. In retrospect, it seems like madness, but I did have my reasons. When action figures first took off, I was enthralled by them. When I was child, I loved loved LOVED the first, proto-realistic-looking toy figures. They weren't posable at all, but if I could ever get my hands on a human figure with a decent paint job, I was delighted. I played endless games with the figures that came in the Lincoln logs set, and built them all kinds of cities and fortresses.
I'm not sorry I collected them for awhile, even though I did go a bit too far. I took them all out of their boxes and played with them. When the Nipper was young, the action figures were his treasured companions, and he too played all kinds of games with them. One of my fond memories is of the young Nipper lashing Black Bolt, of the Inhumans, to a wrought iron railing in our house in Texas, in the role of Prometheus. A balancing bird was poised over his torso, playing the role of the eagle sent by Zeus to punish him for bringing fire to humankind. That was my idea of success as a mother. The Nipper also used plastic takeout containers with clear tops as spaceships and created crews from my collection, acting out his own infinite stories. So it was worth it.
But now it's time for some of them to go. I had to start by cleaning the tops of the containers, which had accumulated dust and mouse droppings. This was a task of great indignity, but it reminded me of two important things: first, how smart I was to get these airtight, washable plastic storage containers for moving. They are far superior to cardboard boxes in many ways. Second, if I had fewer boxes, I wouldn't have to clean so much. It's a huge gumption trap to see all these things that came into my life back when I thought it would be a whole different place. How much of giving away will be pain, and how much will be liberation? How much keeping will bring pleasure, and how much will only burden me with recurring sadness? It's a hard balance to find, and it will be a process. But at least I made a start.
The Sparrowhawk is testing a theory that when he gets tired during the day, actually getting horizontal will be more effective than, say, napping while sitting up. (I believe I've suggested this a couple of times, but far be it from me to say I told you so.) So at one point, he decided to go upstairs and lie down, and I went upstairs too, because it's nice for him to know I'm nearby. I had potential work to do up there: getting into the attic and beginning to sort out some things that are stored there. Once upon a time, I collected action figures like there was no tomorrow. In retrospect, it seems like madness, but I did have my reasons. When action figures first took off, I was enthralled by them. When I was child, I loved loved LOVED the first, proto-realistic-looking toy figures. They weren't posable at all, but if I could ever get my hands on a human figure with a decent paint job, I was delighted. I played endless games with the figures that came in the Lincoln logs set, and built them all kinds of cities and fortresses.
I'm not sorry I collected them for awhile, even though I did go a bit too far. I took them all out of their boxes and played with them. When the Nipper was young, the action figures were his treasured companions, and he too played all kinds of games with them. One of my fond memories is of the young Nipper lashing Black Bolt, of the Inhumans, to a wrought iron railing in our house in Texas, in the role of Prometheus. A balancing bird was poised over his torso, playing the role of the eagle sent by Zeus to punish him for bringing fire to humankind. That was my idea of success as a mother. The Nipper also used plastic takeout containers with clear tops as spaceships and created crews from my collection, acting out his own infinite stories. So it was worth it.
But now it's time for some of them to go. I had to start by cleaning the tops of the containers, which had accumulated dust and mouse droppings. This was a task of great indignity, but it reminded me of two important things: first, how smart I was to get these airtight, washable plastic storage containers for moving. They are far superior to cardboard boxes in many ways. Second, if I had fewer boxes, I wouldn't have to clean so much. It's a huge gumption trap to see all these things that came into my life back when I thought it would be a whole different place. How much of giving away will be pain, and how much will be liberation? How much keeping will bring pleasure, and how much will only burden me with recurring sadness? It's a hard balance to find, and it will be a process. But at least I made a start.
