Yesterday was fun. Yesterday was one of those peaceful, calming, sunny days that many people only experience in the quiet of their minds. I don't miss the city. I don't miss the cars and the people and the noise; or the need to lock everything up in a five-lock box. I certainly don't miss the hurricanes. I don't know how I would handle the city in my present state. But, yesterday was the opposite of all of that.
As Mr. Spicer, Charlie-Monkey, and I wandered through the fields of daisies and clover, the only sounds to be heard were those of the cities of the birds and the crickets. We were searching; not necessarily for peace and quiet, although that was a fringe benefit of our trek through the "weeds". We were searching for Yarrow; for St. John's Wort and Self-Heal; and for Red Clover. Armed with cast off Harvest Foods bags, clippers and homemade bug-spray, (which Charlie carried, a danger in itself), we passed up thistles, (although I would love to go back and gather them when they bloom), and grasses, and rushed excitedly at the desired herbs. "Here's one!" Charlie would say, even though it was just another Daisy that he thought was prettier than all the millions of other Daisies he had passed up. He had his own bag which he filled up with all the things he found interesting: pine cones, Daisies, an occasional blade of grass. At any other time, the bag would be full of rocks, but today's journey was for the sake of plants, and he was participating. If we found ourselves in a rather large patch of grass, thistle and shrub, Charlie was there with the bug spray, buried in the grass, only the top of his bright red hair glistening in the sun to tell us where he was.
Stress had us wrapped in tight muslin, ready for disaster. I am entering the change of life that many women my age experience, the dreaded "M" word. It isn't something that has crept up on me slowly, rather, it has hit me like a Mac truck. Before I understood what was happening to me, I honestly believed I was simply losing my mind. Bitchiness has always been something lurking beneath the calm waters, but now it has emerged from the swamp and runs naked through the hallway, knocking over the furniture and lapping out of the toilet. A woman who "knows everything" isn't an easy Bitch, either. What to do, what to do? I only know that I will not "go gentle into that good night", but I don't want to rage against the dying of the light with synthetic drugs and cancer producing hormone replacement. Thus, the Red Clover, one of the regions feminine herbs. The St. John's Wort is to make me happy, so that the household will be happy. Hopefully. I don't mind the idea of growing older, but the idea that I could very possibly become the dodgy old crab has me seeking relief at every turn.
So, we find ourselves in the field searching for peace of mind in a plant. Somehow, however, there is peace of mind in the searching. Knowing that I am making a step in a direction that may possibly lead to resolution, resolves much. Perhaps the outing, itself, will give me a focus.