Life was linear when I was a youngster. When I was four , I was going to be five. When I was in the second grade, I was looking forward to the third. When I was in high school, it was graduation. When I was in the Navy, it was my discharge date..
The mentally challenged, drugies, slaves and the lives without hope don’t have much in the way of a timeline. I outgrew mine when I retired but I replaced it with a series of anecdotes. It’s church on Sunday, writing group Tuesday morning, breakfast with Morrie on Wednesday, choir practice Wednesday night and book club, Grange and NAMI one day a month. These are the activities that anchor my weeks.
Add to that, my seasonal activities. Migratory birds in the winter and migrating birds in the Spring and Fall along with an occasional mushroom. Wild flowers at the coast and in the Gorge in March and April and then again, on the prairies in May and June and in the mountains in July and August. It’s butterflies in the summer and on into the fall, closely followed by the autumn color displays.
The timeline of these activities stand on their own merits but my status remains the same. The orchids in the Wallowas will continue to bloom whether or not I am there to appreciate them. My activities provide only joy for the moment and but of course my photographs transport me back. What I do is a personal thing now I am off the clock. What I enjoy are visual poems and they are not part of a continuing narrative. Now I just flirt with nature and then I go home alone.