The Lonely Day

I'm the luckiest person ever born but today I felt lonely, maybe because spring is so late in coming this year, and I knew I shouldn't sit in the house but go outside and do some work.

Green onions that Demetrius planted before he died four years ago still pop up and keep me company every spring, and they have naturalized into clumps all competing for space. I dug up and divided some clumps and replanted them so they'll grow thick and strong, and picked a few for cooking. That made me feel less lonely. And while digging I unearthed several moist healthy worms, just as good soil should have, and of course then I couldn't say I was alone at all.

While raking around the firebowl it occurred to me that I should light it. Fire is always warm and friendly. There's no rule that I can't. So I lit one. I didn't build a fire or feed it, I just lit what was there and let it burn orange as long as it would, releasing friendly crackles and sweet healing smoke of oak, and I felt even less alone.

I turned some soil, and as chilly as it is, it's not too chilly to plant my favorite salad herb, arugula, so I did that, and in six days I will be godmother to baby vegetable plants, which always make me happy.

Because my memories of Poland cheer me up, I made a Polish beer bread with rye flour and ate it with butter, not skimping, and cooked some sausage and peppers, and drank the rest of the beer that didn't go into the bread. I arranged to see some friends tonight. I feel much better.