Columnists
Porch zen
Are the autumn colours more vivid than ever this year? Perhaps I just have more time to stop and enjoy the fall foliage. But truthfully, I can’t remember ever seeing brighter reds, golds and yellows on trees and bushes in yards, along the roads and beside the Trail. Maybe this stopping and slowing down is the upside of living during a pandemic. And there really needs to be an upside, right? A wise person said the big switch has been thrown and the whole world is slowly resetting. Wouldn’t it be lovely if it were that easy. And yes, I know it isn’t the same for everyone, but I’m purely amazed by the beauty that surrounds me these days. I suppose it was always there for to be oohed and aahed over. I just never took the time. I was always too busy with stuff. The funny thing is, I’m not even sure what the “stuff” was that kept me so occupied. It seems so long ago when I was consumed with the stuff in my life. The clutter.
These days I’m happy to drink my coffee, early in the morning, on the side porch. It’s not the perfect cup of coffee. It’s not the most beautiful side porch. Sometimes I sit there in my pandemic daywear (comfy pants, flip-flops and a baggy T-shirt), huddled under a porch-blankie, hugging my mug of Joe. Once in a while I find myself thinking this sure as H E double hockey sticks isn’t the “stuff” magazine layouts are made of. But my porch-Zen is something I hope I’ll continue to do, even if the world returns to some semblance of normal. I didn’t know I was capable of just sitting without letting “stuff” get into my head. Yet the pandemic has allowed me these moments of relative peace and quiet. Of course, sometimes the peace and quiet is slightly interrupted by folks speeding by the house on their way to work or to Timmies for a double-double. If I close my eyes tightly, I can hear, “Welcome to Tim Horton’s. Can I take your order?” Yep, the side porch is that close to Tim’s. Occasionally the moment is punctuated with a “hello” from a neighbour as they take their puppers out for their morning constitutional. Once in a while my porch-Zen state-of-mind allows me to ignore the steaming heap of poop that is—accidentally—left behind. And, if I hum loudly enough, the steady beep-beep-beep of the Sealtest truck backing into the grocery store loading dock, less than a block away, becomes one with my morning porch- Zen mantra. Each “beep” of the reversing vehicle, a mere beat of my heart (I’m not sure where the fumes from the exhaust fit into my Zen-state). And, now that classes are back in session, I am often lulled into a catatonic circumstance by a noisy gaggle of students “f-ing” this and “sh#ting that” as they tumble by in a socially undistanced clump of hormones, Daisy Dukes, Doors Tshirts on a cloud of Cotton Candy Body Mist and Axe Spray. Speaking of distance, if the wind blows a certain way, I can hear the school buzzer gently suggesting “anyone who arrives after this noise will be late for class”. The students must also be in an uber-Zen state-of-mind, as none of them hurry to make it to school on time. Ahhh and Ohmmm and stuff.
My morning porch-Zen ends the moment I realize I’m hungry and I actually have “stuff” to do during the day. I want the warm and fuzzies to last, but the kitchen cabinets aren’t going to finish painting themselves. The bagel and second cup of mud isn’t going to get into my belly unless I put the breakfast train in drive. The Trail isn’t going to do my walk for me and the weights at the gym aren’t going to lift themselves. Did I say I was “consumed with stuff”? Well, once the porch-Zen wears off (usually by 8:30 or 9 a.m.) I have to put the gardening equipment into the barn and find a day to close the pool. I don’t want to be too Zen to put the garden furniture away for the winter—in the past I’ve regretted having to sand and repaint yard furniture in the spring. So, all of that stuff needs to find its way into the barn, too. The fix-it list, obviously, doesn’t end with “paint the kitchen cabinets”. There’s more stuff on that list than I can shake a stick at.
Usually by noon, I’ve lost my porch-Zen and I realize all of the beautiful colour is falling on the lawn. Those lovely autumn leaves aren’t going to rake themselves.
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