The Gift of Puttering

I had forgotten how satisfying puttering can be. Why does that happen?! All of us have homes to take care of so that home is really our home. If there are more than one person in a home that can create a bit of a battle about who does what. Territorial arguments can ensue.  ‘I did it last time…..it’s your turn!’ ‘You never load the dishwasher in the right order and I have rearrange everything before anything will get clean!’ ‘Do you ever pick up your socks or hang up your clothes?!’ The list of arguments goes on and so do the arguments. Sometimes these angst ridden dialogues are kept inside just to avoid a verbal battle. And so I segue to those of us that live alone. I love living alone but those arguments just mentioned do not necessarily stay in busy family home. Should anyone be listening ~ maybe the fly on the wall? ~ they may be concerned about my mental health!  Talking myself through these dialogues really only happens when I’ve let my surroundings slide into disarray. Puttering, on the other hand, slows these dialogues to a full stop or maybe to a minor muttering. Soon however, because of the mindlessness of picking up this and rearranging that, my mind moves on to other more interesting things. Things like the music that has been buried in a big box of 8 track tapes from eons ago. Harry Chapin and The Cat’s in the Cradle ~ so much fun. Gathering all my bits of wool from the baby afghans I made in the summer and crocheting a lovely toque for cold weather. The toque I finished last week is toasty warm, a second one is started and promises to be as toasty. (By the way, Rylie Rose'Marie ~ my great granddaughter is three months old today.) A bit more puttering finds supper, waiting to be cooked, in the refrigerator when I do a much needed clean of an inside shelf or drawer. Tonight it will be Foil wrapped salmon on a bed of spinach. Wiping the cupboard shelf, I find garlic cloves from my garden for the salmon, but will pick up a lemon when I go out this afternoon. My long wish to learn Spanish has me opening my Learn Spanish book along the way, doing the lessons for today while Santana plays. 

Puttering is more like a dance. Just taking the steps that will get the many small tasks done, the only order being what is at my finger tips as the dance progresses. Puttering puts the gray, cold rain in its place ~ outside. Although I may get my work raincoat on and finish cleaning up my tiny garden. Another puttering kind of job. At day’s end, a semblance of order as been restored to my satisfaction and pleasure. Home is more than a roof over anyone’s head. As I write those words, I think of all those folk who are desperately in need of any roof. The comforts of home come later. Today’s essay on puttering, when put in perspective, underscores the blessings I have in my home. Forgetting about puttering in this light suggests that I may have taken for granted this very relaxed multitasking that really is housework. Hopefully, when I am resistant to caring for the home beneath my roof, I will remember the gift of puttering.

“Puttering is really a time to be alone, to dream, 

to get in touch with yourself….To putter is to discover.”

~ Alexandra Stoddard