Off the cuff
On Saturday night I found myself staring into blackness from our kitchen window, scrubbing potatoes. It had been a frustrating day, hours spent in the back paddock with a roll of neon pink string marking out a future fence line. We are building a new fence because we’re getting a new septic tank. The new septic tank requires a new drainage field in the back paddock which requires a digger to access, which requires a gate, which has prompted us to finally build the new fence. Are you keeping up with our madness?
We had spent hours on that string line. Moving it inch by inch to get it straight, clearing dead branches on the Acacia to make way for it, pushing back the old bath tub that has been there since we moved in. Pythagorean theorem was discussed at one point and I rolled my eyes. Geometry. I was spending my Saturday discussing geometry.
In keeping with our currenttheme of disruption, Sam and I decided yesterday on a position for the fence line different to the one left behind. It means less tree destruction and more usable space in the front yard. We walked away from our hours of effort with a confirmed fence line marked by string and measurements for our supplies order. It didn’t feel like enough for the effort though. Sam had been so frustrated by lack of progress that he spent an hour axing wood. All our productivity felt more like procrastination. Every decision felt like it opened up new questions and possibilities. We’re so used to finishing productive days with something to show for it. Today all we had was a fence line made of string.
So I was feeling a little flat while scrubbing the dirt off potatoes on a Saturday night. We’re young, why aren’t we out enjoying ourselves instead of tying ourselves up in literal knots over a fence line? I made a bang average dinner and didn’t put ice cubes in my gin and tonic which ruined the whole experience and made me shameful about wasting the good gin on a lazy production.
I sat down on the lounge with Sam, Percy in his lap exhausted. At least that day I’d managed to take Percy on an extra long adventure walk on the golf course, weaving our way strategically through the groups tee-ing off. I finished my book, we started watching a show and then the rain came. All the frustration seemed to wash away the moment I heard the rain on our tin roof, I slept soundly.
Our house is dark this morning and there’s steady rainfall. I can see the bloom of my little dwarf sunflower in the distance, and a pop of yellow on the bud of its neighbour. I have the light on. From my vantage point I can also see a glass container of green tomatoes I’ve been leaving by the window to ripen - it’s working. I’ve just turned our calendar over for May, all that’s on it are scribbles of Percy’s doggy daycare bookings. I add in our dates for camping at Wye River. It’s been a while since we’ve taken the van anywhere and Wye River are trialing dogs on the campsite. I’m working on a budget, which has triggered a review of all auto payments and means multiple tabs open on comparison sites. I have a Bunnings tab open because next week we receive an order of 46 native tube stock and this time around I’m going to protect these babies with tree guards.
If you were to phone me and ask what’s been going on I’d probably say not much. I guess, upon review, there’s a bit, but at this stage it’s about as exciting as reading about me scrubbing potatoes on a Saturday night.
