Today seemed like a perfect day for lying out on my back lawn, reading. First the Economist cover to cover, then my novel - The 351 Books of Irma Acuri by David Bacu. Highly recommended for all sensual mathematicians. Yes, they do exist. Others would probably enjoy it too, but a warning to the more innocent; it is surprisingly explicit.
I always feel most deeply human when I can be outdoors, scantily clad and barefoot. I love the heat of the pebbles on the soles of my feet, almost impossible to walk on. I love lying in Savasana on the earth. Stretching my spine, feeling the unevenness of the ground. I love the feel of the sun on my skin. I love the fact that I cannot open my eyes without endangering them. My body can totally relax. I particulalry like being on a beach, where the sand slowly and imperceptibly conforms to support your body perfectly. It is also best to have a body of water close by to dunk in and swim.
The one huge omission from my otherwise perfet garden, is a swimming pool.
The only thing wrong with Ballard is that there is nowhere really good to swim.
I have devised a Garden Meditation, which I am still editing and will post shortly.
As I lay soaking up rays I listened to the world around me, but the bird song and bee-buzz, were soon drowned out by the fiendish wail of two stroke engines and the acrid smell of their exhausts masked the sweet perfume of my flowers.
So I retreated inside to update the world on the state of my mind. Just in case anyone cares to listen.
It is a beautiful day here in Seattle, but I am beginning to fret from the lack of rain, and I will fret even more when my water bill comes. I have too many plants to keep alive! Another flaw in the overplanting approach I have to my garden.
Ah well, at least it is chaotically pretty, and my lawn is more like a meadow.
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