Tuesday, July 23, 2013

***Tuesday's Tip***

I bought this boogie board for a dollar at a yard sale about 5 years ago.  I had every intention of it becoming my beach buddy.  But rather than ending up here....

It has only been afloat here....

Each summer I intend to spend more time at the beach.  My record is 3 times.  I only went twice last season during my Garden Sabbatical, how sad is that!  I have been twice this summer already...so there is hope!  In the meantime my boogie board has become one of my favorite garden gadgets instead, of my beach buddy.  Let's face it I will always spend more time in the garden than at the beach.

My boogie board is like my garden couch.  It is a fantastic device for kneeling & sitting while picking and weeding.  Great for a garden stretch too.  Very comfy in yoga child's pose or for lying on your back to stare at clouds for a bit of a break.

It also has this very nice webbing strap with a Velcro loop on the end.  I can hitch it too my belt loop and drag it along when my hands are full.

Maybe a boogie board in the garden reminds me to get to the beach and enjoy the waves before summer's end.  I want to be clear, I love the beach but, I love the work here more.  It is the everyday pleasure of accomplishment that feeds my soul with an emphasis on pleasure.  The work may be hard at times but, even a tired body is a reward when felt with relish and satisfaction.  There are so many sights to see if one just takes the time to look.  I do not seek the BIG reward...I don't even know what that is?  It is the everyday JOY that sustains me and fills me with the feeling of satisfaction.

Like an early morning with my coffee, boogie board, hand tool, and weeds...

....to a job completed before the shade was lost, with ducks in the distance and time for another cup of coffee enjoying what I had just done.

A fresh poem find....



I like to find   
what's not found   
at once, but lies

within something of another nature,   
in repose, distinct.   
Gull feathers of glass, hidden

in white pulp: the bones of squid   
which I pull out and lay
blade by blade on the draining board—

       tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce   
       the heart, but fragile, substance
       belying design.               Or a fruit, mamey,

cased in rough brown peel, the flesh   
rose-amber, and the seed:
the seed a stone of wood, carved and

polished, walnut-colored, formed   
like a brazilnut, but large,
large enough to fill
the hungry palm of a hand.

I like the juicy stem of grass that grows
within the coarser leaf folded round,
and the butteryellow glow
in the narrow flute from which the morning-glory   
opens blue and cool on a hot morning.

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