I’d like to live in a calendar.
I keep wall calendars in the important rooms in my house: the kitchen, the office and usually my bedroom. This year; however, I didn’t find one that I liked for my room. Borders was going out of business, its replacement, Books-A-Million didn’t have a great selection when I first visited. And after looking over my past calendars, I decided against putting one in the bedroom. I don’t really need it. My cellphone is always in my room when I’m in there, and it has years of calendars on it. Instead I simply folded up the month part of one of my favorites and left the photo hanging on the nail.
You’d think with my travels and bucket list I’d have some exotic locale to gaze upon every waking moment I’m puttering in my favorite room, but that’s not what I hung up on the nail. I picked a garden calendar, and not one of those fancy schmancy English ones. This one is simple and rickety. And I’m quickly coming to the conclusion that I need more simple rickety time in my life. I’m itching to get my hands in dirt and start planting my garden. This non-existent northeast winter has got me aching for blooms, dagnabit! And I want the hot weather too so my sunflowers that are going to shade the front of my house will rise taller than the windows.
For all the pictures in my garden calendar I don’t see one cellphone, computer, ebook reader or MP3 player. I see no noise, but I hear birds singing. I hear something rustling in the bushes. I see a quick rabbit hopping away from my spinach and lettuce. And I see me, weeding, pulling, picking…..
Yep, I’m definitely not searching for a ‘real’ calendar for my room. Don’t see one of those in the garden either.