Physics, regular and meta-

A 50' garden hose is easier to move around a yard than three five gallon buckets when one is emptying a bathtub. That same hose, however, will practically rip your lips off while you're establishing the siphon.

After running and before showering today, I emptied the bath onto the front yard plants. They're just thriving under the (no doubt nitrogen-enriched) spare water regime. But lugging heavy buckets early has been wearing. Today's experiment was a good one, but I'm still committed to getting storage barrels for my semi-grey water setup. I'd like the option of watering, rather than the imperative.

And that run this morning? It was an unusually bad one. I'd enjoyed a four mile run just a couple of days ago, at a fairly respectable ten minute mile pace. But today? It was as though I'd borrowed someone else's body, someone partially made of lead. I played games -- I chose to run down an allee of sycamores at the regional park. "Pretend you're in Narnia," I thought, "Pretend you're running to someone beloved," "Pretend you can fly."

And it helped, some. I liked that part. But the rest? Logy, uninspired.

When I got home, chaos reigned. The second one couldn't find her helmet, the fourth one was crying and wouldn't say why, no one had made me any tea (never mind I hadn't said I would really like that -- just no one cares), and I was in a mood.

So I watered, and I washed dishes -- amazing how much water we're capturing with a simple bucket in the sink -- the compost is damper than it's been in weeks. But all along, something was off. I went out to feed the scraps to the chickens and collect eggs -- sheesh, they're out of water again and I do not want to lug it, but the hose isn't there. And I just did it. Filled the bucket,carried the bucket, watered the chickens, collected the egg, and on my way in I saw this.


And it came inside with me.

One of the dishes I hadn't washed was a small bowl of leftover yogurt from one of the sailor's breakfasts. I cut the Elephant Heart plum up into it and remembered to add a handful of almonds.

That small bowl of yogurt and the second pot of tea fed me more fully than much of the unconscious munching I've been doing lately. I've not been more hungry, just bored and antsy and not wanting to grade. So instead of knitting or spinning or reading to a child, I've been prowling the kitchen. And I don't want to eat like that.

So thinking about why this was so different seemed a useful exercise. I had picked a fruit from my yard and taken a moment to reflect on how much I enjoy having homegrown food. I had imagined how good the foods would taste together, and I had remembered a finishing touch. Hopefully I can keep that intentionality in my kitchen and dining room -- I have two full bags of produce from the farmer's market and a menu/shopping list on the refrigerator for help.