The Gift Of The Ordinary

It’s been hard to get away from the news these days. Everywhere one looks there is something gone awry. Disorder, discord and destruction is seemingly the new normal. Tempers are running high while spirits are low. Between Mother Nature’s might and all the political unrest, our world feels unsettled and out of alignment. It’s an extraordinarily heartbreaking time at present. It’s overwhelming and one wonders what the point of it all might be. While I reach out to those struggling to recover from natural disasters and man-made horrors, my heart reminds me to seek solace in the gift of the ordinary.

We take ordinary for granted. In fact, we often complain about it right? Seeking excitement and the extraordinarily, we whine about the same old-same old, the mundane, the quotidian. But it’s precisely those humdrum, routine tasks that give us certain assurance. They tell us that all is as it should be. Things are normal. There is wondrous peace in that.

This past week, in trying to process all the goings on and looking for how I can be of most service, I’ve found such comfort in doing the unremarkable chores in the garden. Whilst weeding, I’ve observed the earthworms tilling the earth and the bees making their rounds. The seed pods rattling in the breeze that brings a fresh shower of leaves in colors of the sun. I’ve taken note of the slender green needles of emerging grass from the recently seeded front lawn. In tucking away the pots of tender plants into the greenhouse, I’m reassured that they will be warm and safe through the cold months. Picking Swiss chard for supper, I’m struck by how much I enjoy this vegetable and how it keeps giving well into early December. Washing out the large pots now emptied of their seasonal contents, I watch the birds raid the meadow for seeds and bugs. The low slant of the afternoon light sets aglow the asters as though reminding the butterflies and bees there remains only a few more hours before visiting hours are over. Meanwhile, in another corner, the light turns the swaying heads of ornamental grasses into feathers of polychromatic optic fibers. Cutting back the plants will have to wait another week or two – this senescence is so beautiful .

These familiar chores put my heart at ease and for one all too brief period, my fear, anxiety, anger, sorrow and frustration are forgotten. Ordinary is good.

I wrote the poem below three years ago. It expresses the same sentiments.

The Gift Of The Ordinary

The early demand

to make room

for still warm toes

and sleep tousled hair

against my languid self.

 

Sandwiched between

husband and child

Wide awake

much too hot

wouldn’t change a thing.

 

Quick kisses, rushed goodbyes

Sudden quiet amidst the dishes

Hours open

creative freedom

the comfort of home.

 

Laundry rituals, weekly menus

Deadlines, submissions

instep with

family time, date night

snatched moments of solitude.

 

Belonging, beloved

sleep deprived on a good day

Supported, cheered

trailing behind on paperwork

The gift of the ordinary.

                                             –Shobha Vanchiswar

Note: I hope you will visit one or all of the art shows I’m in this month!

Rainbow chard

Moving into the greenhouse in progress

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar

Turncoat!

Turncoat!

My eyes open and there you are

on the other side of the window

shining gold in the sunlight

enticing your tribe to do the same

Turncoat!

Yellow ocher, russet, sienna, plum

you’ve painted yourself anew

discarding all the serenity of greens

olive, sap, chartreuse, moss

Turncoat!

Outdoing summer’s brights

you’ve set the world aflame

no word you’re abandoning ship

you simply switched loyalty

Turncoat!

I’m loathe to see the change

yet, I’m awed by your brilliance

I feel cheated, betrayed

Though I’ve always known what you are

Turncoat!

Shobha Vanchiswar

I’m happily back from my travels and slowly adjusting to ‘business as usual’. The garden is a riot of color and disarray. As it should be since I’ve been away all of six long weeks. The apples were harvested from the espalier fence yesterday. A very fall-like activity and yet, the weather feels like high summer. Having missed a chunk of the warm season here, I’m really not ready for autumn. It’s oddly disorienting actually. I’m sensing a bit of resentment within when I notice the trees turning color and fallen leaves carpeting the ground.

I’m not quite prepared to tackle that long list of October chores. Harvest fruit, collect seeds, cut back, rake leaves, plant new additions, annual mowing of meadow, reseed front ‘lawn’, clean up, put away, move tender perennials in pots into the greenhouse, clean greenhouse first and then, when the ground is cool enough, plant the hundreds of bulbs which will be arriving imminently. Clearly, no rest for the wicked.

Indeed, I adore fall. After spring it is my favorite season. But that does not mean I cannot be irrational about missing so much of summer despite the fact I had a perfectly great time elsewhere. Go figure. I simply want my cake and eat it too.

Note: Heads Up! In October, I will be participating in four art shows in the Westchester area. Details will be posted next week. I do hope you will make time to visit the shows. Your support and feedback is invaluable.

The vertical still looks lovely

Grossly neglected perennial beds. Yet, their wildness has a certain appeal.

Apples on the espalier

Turtleheads still in bloom in the meadow

 

(c) 2017 Shobha Vanchiswar