Out my study window I can see the white board fence around my back yard. For years the bottom board has been broken. Right in the middle there's a gap of about eighteen inches. On my list of things to get done this summer is replacing that board and painting the fence. I guess the whole happily married thing is inspiring me.
But sitting here looking out my window, at my broken fence with daffodils and hyacinths blooming at its feet, I'm nostalgic and kind of attached to the whole scene. I'll fix it and get it painted. But I kind of like it the way it is now. Does that make it official? Am I certifiable? Or am I turning into someone for whom change is to be feared and avoided?
I choose to call myself a romantic. The scene is kind of pastoral, lovely and interesting in its own way. I don't like to change beauty. And neat has never been one of my favorite criteria for good looking. So I'll appreciate the spring flowers blooming around the broken fence and the rustic feel of the whole scene. And when it's fixed, I'll appreciate the face lift. By then the lillies will cover it anyway.
No comments:
Post a Comment