Monday, April 12, 2010

NOTHING HAPPENED

Yesterday evening, as my Ladylove and I sat on the deck, watching the sun disappear and the sky go through its wondrous cycle of gold to orange to vermilion to amethyst to indigo, I thought over the weekend and tried to decide what I might write about for this post. Nothing obvious sprang to mind.
On Saturday, I spent most of the day moving cut slabs of Indiana limestone from their storage pile close to the drive to the yard near the front of the cottage, where I'm fiddling with an ongoing project. The idea is to use the materials I have on hand, rather than buying stuff, to construct a sort of wide walkway in front of the side deck and around the riverside corner of the cottage to the front deck.
These chunks of smooth rock—squares, rectangles, triangles, and every other shape you can think of, including lots with broken-off portions—are anywhere from the size of a very large dinner plate to half a desktop, and 2 to 6 inches thick. The ones I can lift I bring down in the wheelbarrow; the ones I can't I coax along with rollers and a crowbar. Fitting them is like working a giant patchwork puzzle. It helps if you have a high tolerance for back pain and an eye for spatial relationships, as hundred-pound blocks aren't the easiest thing to jocky around.
I did take one walk in the afternoon—about a thirty minute break to a low floodplain portion of riverside woods a half mile below the cottage. Lesser celandine have been in bloom locally for a couple of weeks. This stretch is always a riot of bright yellow flowers, and as they're already starting to fade, I wanted to make a quick visit before the show ended.
So that was Saturday.
Sunday after church, my Ladylove and I did nothing other than a few light chores and a lot of lazing around outside in the lovely warm sun. I tended some slow-cooked pork barbecue, read, snoozed, and watched clouds, birds, and the river as it purled along—green, cheerful, as if excited to be dancing southward on a springtime adventure. Moon the dog wallowed in the grass. My Laydylove, who loves the sun—and the brighter-'n-hotter the better—stretched out on the chaise lounge and promptly went to sleep.
Late in the day we had our supper of smoky pulled pork—laced liberally with my tangy-sweet sauce—a big salad, and an after-dinner cappuccino. And that was pretty much the whole of Sunday. So…what to write about?
It was now all but night. The vultures had been settled on their roost for an hour. A couple of robins were trading riffs in the gathering darkness. High in the western sky a jetliner cruised—a wink of silver dragging a vapor tail the color of blood.
"What am I going to write about," I said. "Nothing interesting happened."
"Don't be silly," said Myladylove, "that's interesting…write how nothing happened."
———————

30 comments:

Bonnie, Original Art Studio said...

Nothing can be full of delight ... especially when nothing is attended to with love.

Debbie said...

That's one of the most pleasant accounts of 'nothing' I've ever enjoyed. It was a little like ours, with the exception of pulled pork and river. But it incited a beautiful picture in my imagination and for that I am grateful!
Have a good week, the both of you..
Debbie

The Weaver of Grass said...

Your ladylove was absolutely right - lovely post - nothing happened except that those wonderful lesser celandine burst into bloom - we have them here and they are joyous to behold. Glad to hear you had a lovely weekend - would have liked a taste of that pulled pork though.

Wanda said...

I enjoyed how 'nothing happened' there over the weekend.
Years ago we made a patio and steps, salvaging the foundation of an old farm house, that once stood on the property. I understand the difficulty of working with such large slabs of stone!
That's a big happening!

Grace said...

The best kinds of weekends are the ones where "nothing happens". I try to "plan" those weekends all the time.

The picture of the field of flowers is amazing. Nothing like that around here--not that I know of anyway.

Tramp said...

YourLadyLove is a wise woman, Griz ... Tramp

madcobug said...

Sounds like a good lazy day to me. Love those yellow flowers. That BBQ sounds great. Moving all that limestone sounds like a big chore but the wall should be beautiful. Helen

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Bonnie…

Absolutely…everything goes better with love!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Debbie…

Hey, I have "nothing" days, weekends, and sometimes entire weeks. And I enjoy them immensely. Today, on the other hand, I played hooky and went for a long, long ramble—hours and miles. And except for the fact I've near-incapacitated myself, had a dandy time doing that "something"…though I'll likely be singing another tune come tomorrow morning.

Have a great week yourself—with family and music and job, in that lovely northcountry amid the brand new season.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Weaver…

Not many around these parts will admit to liking the beauty of the lesser celandine—as it such an invasive and getting worse every spring. But I expect we're stuck with it, like it or not. And taken in its own right, it is quite lovely.

I truly wish you could have joined us yesterday, at the table overlooking the water, and had some of that luscious pulled pork—along with about a dozen other things I would have fixed to make your meal here a real riverbank feast.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Wanda…

Sounds like you know exactly how much "fun" some of my recent works days have been…and why yesterday's "nothing" day was so appealing.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Grace…

I try and plan 'em, too…though they often get lost in all the stuff that needs doing, and everything else that sneaks in and sucks up every moment of planned free "do nothing" time. The worse part is I aid and abet my own lost plans by feeling guilty over not getting everything done.

Pretty as lesser celandine is, it's becoming a real problem because it grows so thick it smothers out native wildflowers. But when it's in full bloom, it lights the woods up with a gold carpet.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Tramp…

I'm tempted to say…

1. Of course, she's wise—after all, she married me!

2. She is wise, indeed…except when it came to choosing a husband.

(Truth is, she's smarter, better looking, and somehow manages to put up with me—and that, honest to God, is no easy task.)

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Madcobug…

The barbecue was delicious; the celandine pretty; and the lazy day absolutely delightful. I'm not going to grow up to be a stonemason, though!

Tom said...

UGH! You've to too, i want to puke! We won't have any native floodplain vegetation left!

Tom

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Tom…

Hey, I didn't bring it here, I just took it's picture. But I don't see it going away anytime soon, either—so I'm thinking you'd better take something for that delicate stomach and get used to celandine in the spring. :-)

BTW, I'm posting a couple more shots of that cress—basal leaves and upper stem leaf. I've about decided it must be small-flowered bitter cress.

Bernie said...

So happy to hear of the wonderful interesting weekend you had, loved it and I think you have a delightful wife......so pleased that you are feeling better Grizz, be careful lifting those heavy weights with your back, not worth all the pain ....... :-) Hugs

giggles said...

My folks in Ohio have a pillow that has a quote on it. Forgive me if I've shared it here with you already, but I love what it says: "How wonderful to do nothing and rest afterwards." Or as the T-shirts say "Life is good."

PS Beaver is tres exciting!!!!!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Bernie…

Whenever I mess with the stone, it's always the same—do some work, pay the price…do some work, pay the price. That's one of the reasons the project keeps dragging along, because I have to get myself healed from the previous workday, and have to get my nerve up and mind set for another round of pain.

Myladylove is delightful.

Hope you're now having a bit of spring up your way!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Giggles…

Hey, I don't recall you sharing that quote before…but even if you had, it's worth repeating because it's so wonderfully true.

Haven't seen the beaver this week, but who knows when it will reappear.

Scott said...

So, Grizz, you've got fields of lesser celandine AND the non-native stinkbug that's everywhere here (apparently first spotted in Allentown, PA). Welcome to my world!
And, we've got a beaver in our wetland again (after last year's beaver disappeared from the wetland and was shot for "fun" by a local rogue archer.

The Solitary Walker said...

Nothing happened. Yet everything happened!

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Scott…

PLENTY of lesser celandine! And apt to be even more next spring…and so on, and so on…

Of course that's what invasives do—invade. I wish it weren't around, but it is, and short of spraying about a gazillion gallons of Round-Up on every floodplain, riverbank, and upland woods in North America, I don't know what we're going to do about it except curse, cry, and wait for some genetic fix. (Of course then we'll probably end up with stink bugs the size of Holsteins!)

Still think it's pretty, though…

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Solitary…

Well, one thing that didn't happen was not a single heavy stone slab moved over from the pile to the would-be patio and settled itself in place.

But it was an otherwise full day of nothing.

Robin said...

I'd still be reeling from the Beaver sighting, since I love them so much.

(Some day I must post my beaver photo version of the famous painting, 'The Scream'.)

'Nothing' is good, and no one does it better than you.

Thank you.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Robin…

Thank you for those nice words. I'm glad you enjoyed the post. And you will have to post that beaver photo version of Munch's painting.

P.S.—No beaver sighting in several days, though I've not been around all that much at the prime time.

Rebecca said...

Griz, love the fields of yellow. Beautiful pics.

Nothing is good.

Once I had to pack my life each minute. Then I yearned for boring.

Today, nothing is good. Took me a while to understand and apprecite it, but yes, nothing is indeed good.

Lovely post. Thank you.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Rebecca…

Nothing is very good, sometimes. The more life you live, the more you come to appreciate those rich, multilayered times…and nothing days are often the richest of all.

Teri and the cats of Furrydance said...

lovely carpet of yellow; lovely meal; lovely lady to remind you what a special day you had and how we love reading about it.

The-Grizzled-But-Still-Incorrigible-Scribe-Himself! said...

Teri…

I know they're an invasive alien…but I also know they are, on their own merits, still beautiful. It was a lovely day. Thank you.