Small Things

This shelf is actually my backup  emergency desperation* collection of found objects I have picked up outside over the years. The little basket with the snakeskin in it was given to me by John's grandmother, and is probably Pomo. They are so tightly woven that larger versions of them were used for carrying water. The dish with the acorns and lichens, leaves and an owl pellet was sent to me by blippers Carolinav and California Girl after we were evacuated from our house in 2017. I've always accumulated these collections of things and looking at them makes me realize that we have lived here for almost ten years, long enough for me have collected quite a lot. It seems a good measure of feeling settled and like this is now my home. 

Once the children were launched and on their own, I  started to entertain the idea of moving, just because it seemed like we ought to live at least one other place in our lifetime. Another part of me never believed it would actually happen. I loved our old Craftsman house in Berkeley, and we put a lot of ourselves into updating it while still respecting its history. I used to have dreams that somehow we had moved, and I was distraught and regretful about it. Yet here we are, in a completely different sort of house in a completely different sort of place and have now lived here long enough to put our stamp on it. We have no regrets.

I'm reading a novel by Richard Powers called Bewilderment , about a father's attempt to understand his son. He describes his anger over a doctor's diagnosis that his son was 'on the spectrum'. After commenting on the fact that the diagnosis was a disorder that had 'changed its name several times in the last two decades' and seemed to be a moving target, he says, 'We are ALL on the spectrum'. 

I think his message is that we would do a lot better as a society to stop differentiating people by their differences and start realizing how interconnected and interrelated we really are. He goes on in his next book, The Overstory , to speculate on how our interconnectedness extends beyond our species to all living things. They are wonderful, thought provoking books.

*The thermometer is approaching 100 degrees and Spike and John and I are all sitting in our 'spots' without moving much. Going outside for a picture was not appealing.