It's been a week since a pretty significant election. K and I stayed up late last Tuesday and watched the numbers come in. He's a politics geek and gets rev'd up whenever there is about to be a historical event right before his eyes. It's endearing. I rushed home after clinicals, snacks in hand, asking, "What did I miss?" as soon as I came in the door. We stayed up until 1:30, watching colors change on the map, glued to the TV like it was the dramatic conclusion of a heavily anticipated series.
Coming from Washington state, I was always a absentee voter. I'd send my ballot in a couple of weeks before the election, all signed, stamped and ready. And, that was pretty much it. When I moved to PA, I was forced to vote for the first time at a polling place. It feels different. It feels like your number gets put in the running right away, like you contributed instantly. No, they don't give you a "I Voted" sticker, but its still pretty special.
The election was a week ago, and people have moved on and started talking about different things. I like it that way. I have a problem with the day after effect that has on our population. The gloating and the despising. The stereotyping and the name-calling. Things like, "We took back our country from those greedy, fat bastards" or "I can't believe people voted in those greedy, fat bastards". Its irresponsible and it gets us no where.
I take the stand that you should avoid talking about religion, politics, and education at a party. I treat this blog as my own private party. So, I choose to focus on the positive and work hard at eliminating the negative in my life. With that said, I won't spew hatred for others on this blog. Nor will I embarrass or hurt someone in a public setting in order to benefit my own voice or self-esteem. I think blogging is a beautiful media, and I'm not going to take it for granted or bastardize it when I want to throw a hissy-fit when life isn't going my way. This is not the place to do that. Everyone's entitled to write the kind of blog that they want, but it really does become a true representation of who you are.
My father always said, "Don't write anything down that can be used against you. Writing is permanent."
With that said, I've begun the process of shutting down the garden for the winter. That means planting lots of bulbs. Tulips, daffodils, narcissus, they're all there. It's turning into a three, four day ordeal because our sunlight is greatly limited at this point and my knees can take only so much squatting and kneeling on the hard ground. I didn't get them in before the first frost. But, they're tulips, what do they know?
The wind has been blowing hard, and I had to layer-up seriously, but I was still in heaven. I will miss gardening like I miss the mountains. I put on dirty jeans and a sweatshirt, and black crocs. I wear these to work sometimes, and K calls them "You don't give a shit-about-work-today-shoes." And that's true. When I wear them to work, I kind of mail it in (you know, without killing or harming old people.) But, when I put them on to garden, I give a shit. Oh, yes I do. That means some serious gardening is about to take place, because I don't care about how dirty I'm about to get, since crocs have holes in them.
The ground isn't really frozen yet. It's still damp and covered with crispy leaves. When I dig, I blog. In my head, I'm speaking in blog form and thinking about all of the different things that I'm feeling and want to write about. Like how school is wrapping up and how I'm going to be a RN soon. And the fact that I don't want to look at a single wedding magazine right now or plan anything. Or how I want to buy something that transforms my room downstairs, and how I can't find that something.
Or how I was featured on a blog this week. Yes, milestone! A whole post, dedicated to me and about me. Of course, things always get misconstrued in journalism, and things were taken out of context, but still, I was featured solely on a blog. How exciting.
And so, I'm digging, breathing in the autumn soil, crackling leaves with my shovel, and thinking. Thinking about how the seasons and life are converging. Here I am, working soil that contains left-overs from the summer crops, planting flowers that won't bloom until spring. How time flies. How I've lost track of which bulbs I've planted where. Unsure of what the garden will look like that I'm planting.
What will everything be like in the Spring?
I'm digging, I'm mourning the loss of my summer garden and of the impending winter weather, and at the same time I'm decompressing. Decompressing this crazy year, full of the biggest changes I've ever experienced. Engagement. Achieving my career dreams. Losing a grandmother (which I'm not yet ready to blog about). Losing best friends. Choosing to speak up instead of pretending. The year of tremendous growth. There I kneel on the ground, planting bulbs, and using their example as a metaphor for my life.
We have winter ahead of us. I'm not sure what it will bring. I'm not sure what more I can take this year as far as change. Working hard in a garden that won't produce results for months. Doing the same in life. Whispering to worms that I uncovered in the cool dirt, "Hold on worm, it's gonna get cold. " Loosing track of which bulb I planted where. Knowing that the kind of pattern that I planted will surprise me come Spring.
Spring. What will everything be like? What will I be like?
Stay tuned.
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