Flying by the seat of my pants has always lessened the anxiety I feel in life. I think it’s the real key to enjoying everything: don’t over-plan, don’t over-stress, and always always have low expectations.
My music teacher days are filled to the brim with flying by the seat of my pants. I knew some of it would be this way, but I didn’t expect how much I’d love it. I need more hours in the week but at the same time I’m bone tired in the very best way possible. Even if there were more hours I’d spend them sleeping, not cutting out cute little pumpkins or working on laminating centers activities.
I knew (and know) a few people who do this teacher thing and are always complaining. I am not there yet, thank goodness, and I don’t plan on ever arriving.
We have kiddos who come to school from an absolute mess at home, or with a terrible, self-defeating attitude, or are the product of caregivers who are at their rope’s end. I’m even more grateful for my upbringing and the wisdom that’s come as a grown adult. I did not jump into the deep end unwittingly, and I’m so glad. It would really stink to imagine a class full of obedient, darling children and then be handed all sorts of belligerent, disagreeable, chaotic elementary kids. There are plenty of both.
I’ve had standoffs with kids who refuse to hand me the mallet once xylophone time is over. Kids who have no concept of personal space, and kids who are so exhausted from late night living (your kids need more sleep, parents! Put them to bed at a decent hour!) that they wallow on the carpet like puppies.
Kids who refuse to work with a partner (“we hate each other,” the nine-year-old said matter-of-factly, to which I replied, “it doesn’t matter, she’s your partner. Go sit in the corner and get used to feeling lonely, because that’s what life’s gonna be like for you if you can’t get along with people”). Kids who sulk and walk silent, threatening circles around me because I didn’t immediately let them disrespect me.
Then I have the lovelies who stare, gaping and thrilled when I bust out the autoharp, or the old typewriter, or the ukuleles. This is what it is about—all of it. For the former, I get to be an adult who cares about them enough to challenge them to grow into a decent human being. For the latter, I get to show them how learning is awesome and opens worlds of fun.
These are from my cypress vines. I planted two seeds along the deck on the house and a couple to trellis on the arbor near the garden. After we pruned back the wisteria on the deck I had hoped for something a little less destructively invasive, so I gave these a go. The leaves are feathery and light and the blooms are so fun! The hummingbirds love it, and I love having hummingbirds back around without a sticky red bird feeder.
We will see if I still love it next year, if and when it reseeds itself. The wisteria is always threatening to make a furious rebound, which makes me fear for the deck itself. I keep thinking about the annoying ivy character from Darkwing Duck—Dr. Bushroot?!
(Confirmed. Though the internet wants to convince me his evil was born out of loneliness, not malicious intent.)
I’m working on a lasagna compost idea, but first I need to do some heavy weeding. Squash borers have infested my pumpkins—and I’d been so good about removing those plants to prevent the spread! Oh well. We have a good run.
The idea is to get more cardboard to lay down on top of the decomposing plant matter. I don’t know it it’ll work in the hugelkulturs—I’ve been re-mounding them with straw after I pull up the bed.
(The straw bales I’d bought in Spring didn’t work as well as I’d thought than just the soil for sowing seeds. Back in Colorado I was always impressed by one neighbor who regularly planted all his garden in bales, but I should’ve known not to bother since the climate and soil here is so great for plant life.)
onhoneycreek.com 