Making a plan
nothing fancy
It’s only one small room
But I don’t know what
and l don’t know how
and I don’t know if
Maybe I’ll put it off
Til I need it ~ I wonder when that will be
At least it’s not today.
When should I start?
“Don’t spin your wheels and stress. Take a deep breath,
centre yourself and make a plan.”
~ Douglas Adams, writer
(1952 ~ 2001)
What does one do with
a topsy turvy morning
when everything was planned
when part of the plan was
to be relaxed and be happy
interrupted by the forgotten
an attempt at reshuffling
to fit in the sudden
and still make breakfast.
only one ~
or maybe two things ~ to do
snatch calmness from the air
be still and keep moving
let go of the sudden and
go with the plan.
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
~ Mary Oliver, The Summer Day
“Tell me, what is it you
plan to do with your one
wild and precious life?”
Mary Oliver penned these
words at the end of her
poem The Summer Day.
Summer has yet to bless us,
but her question stands for any season. There was no plan
when my life stepped out
on its own. It became a charcoal sketch with roads
going hither and thither,
mountains to climb, rivers
to cross, and stars to sleep under,
blue skies or grey, stormy
weather or calm. Looking into
the distance of yesterday,
my heart may have whispered
a direction. For each tomorrow,
there is an unbroken field.
“Study the past if you would define the future.”
~ Confucius
Seasoning
More paper work! Dez hated paperwork. She could her mother saying “Desperanza, you shouldn’t hate anything, dear.” But she did hate paperwork. She and her sister had first searched for the location of the B.C.Fruit company, but it was only on the mainland. If Matt sold his fruit there then he must have paid a bundle for shipping them on the ferry. There were different cooperatives up and down the Island, but no B.C. Fruit company. She knew shipping anything involved paperwork and that did not make her happy. “Are you sure that’s what he said, Dez?”
“I wrote it in my iPad as soon as it came out of his mouth. Maybe he just made a mistake.”
The two women were pursuing a way for the Estate to make some money. Emelina had learned that the trust fund Michael had left her was being stretched uncomfortably thin. If they could get the orchard producing more next year, it just might help. Not necessarily save them, but help. Dez had talked with her about ‘Farm Gate sales’. It would mean more work for Samuel and he seemed to be slowing down. Would they be able to hire someone to work with him? She hadn’t broached that yet. Now this. Which of the cooperatives would they approach? It would have to be the nearest one, just because of gas. They’d need vehicles to transport the fruit - or would the cooperatives want their own? “This is giving me a headache, Em. It’s a good thing it’s the end of the season. We’ll have all winter to get organized.”
Emelina laughed. “Knowing you, I’ll have to give you a plan to follow or you’ll just curl up and forget that spring does get here!” She hugged her sister. “We don’t have to get it all set today, just start a plan with days and times to get it done. Including orchard work. I don’t know what needs doing. Samuel talks about pruning and cleaning up the orchard.” Dez relaxed. “You’re right, Em. I guess I was getting ahead of myself. And worried about me not being a help but a hindrance to you. Let’s go for lunch and look at all these brochures.”
~~~~~
Over lunch, Em assured her sister that she had been a help for most of the time they had been back together. “It was just those first days of the pandemic when you were just bossy and grumpy.”
“That was pretty rude wasn’t it. You picked me up in the middle of the night, took me into your home, gave me whatever I needed without a complaint.” The sisters laughed over all the silly things they had done. Just like back in their teenage years in their shared bedroom at home. “I think that if we could get over that, we can handle this.” Dez took a big drink of her water. “So what do you think about the Farm Gate idea? We wouldn’t have much produce right away. We’ll have to talk to Samuel about that too. We may be able to sell some of our flowers as they come up. I know he doesn’t think much about flowers, but if it helps pay for his vegetables, he may think differently.”
Emelina put her sandwich down and looked out the window. She turned back to Dez. “You know, I think I like becoming a farmer. I don’t know that I’ll be much good at it, but with everyone’s help we can make a real go of it.” She hesitated, picked up her sandwich again, and smiled. “Maybe we could even get chickens and we’d have eggs to sell.”
“Whoa, Em! Let’s not get carried away…….although………you may have a good idea. Put that on your list of things to do. You’d have to be in charge of that because I’m doing the orchard. Who would be at the Farm Gate stand when it was time?” She beckoned the waiter over. “Could I please have some coffee, cream and sugar..Em do you want some?.....And for my sister as well. Thanks”
“The other people we have to get involved are Cook and Martha. I suspect Cook will be worried that we’ll sell all the tomatoes before she can get her hands on them.” Dez’s face lit up. “We could have special days for selling some of her baking! I hope she’s not looking at retiring.”
~~~~~
At the end of the day, their planning had turned to dreaming about what could be. The actual work that would go into those dreams was a minor detail. Dez had worked the orchard for a over a year and knew that besides painting, she belonged with the apple trees and honey bees. Em, just in talking with Dez, had also found a place she never had considered before. Excited about growing food, selling food, donating food, being involved in the farming community..... she felt more alive than she had in a long time. To share their dream was icing on the cake.
“Farming is not just a job. It’s a responsibility and a privilege.”
~ Joel Watson
Wishful thinking is magical
~ plans take a nibble
Knowing when to fly
~ changes everything
“Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing.”
~ Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief
Memory, one April to the next, slips back to warmer springs is not reliable when it comes to nostalgia, expectation and boredom!
‘April showers bring May flowers’ ~
a mere fantasy for another time. Two days on, snowfall, whipped and flung by wild winds, interfered with plans.
Plans for walking and errand-ing on hold, puttering at home wrapped me in warmth and a new recipe for Cranberry/Orange Jam.
“Snow in April is abominable,” said Anne.
“Like a slap in the face when you expected a kiss.”
~ L.M.Montgomery, Anne of Ingleside
Idea ~ only the germ….
Deep in the convoluted soil of our minds
A need to be met
A plan to be made
Idea ~ only the germ….
Beginning to sprout nourished by passion
A plan to be made
Steps to be taken
Idea ~ only the germ….
Pushing up through the flagging energy of work days
Steps to be taken
More plans to be made
Idea ~ only the germ….
Muscling it’s way through social stigma
More plans to be made
Education and belief co-mingled
Idea ~ only the germ….
One small voice singing in the choir
Education and belief co-mingled
Idea picked up by more than one begins to make a difference.
“Any idea, plan, or purpose may be placed
in the mind through repetition of thought.”
~ Napoleon Hill
Author's note: *This poem was inspired by an idea I had many years ago when, as a working nurse, I recognized that nurses did not have medical assessment protocols for alcohol (and drug) withdrawal for patients we cared for in acute care hospitals. At the time - in the 1980’s - one physician, Dr. Saul Cohen, did have protocols to teach us. From there, I took that idea and attempted to educate myself and to educate others. Working at the time to support myself and maintain my own health, I was not able to expand my own idea, however saw that health care professionals around me were and are beginning to pick up the same threads. While there is still much to be done in the field of addictions, both acute care/detox and long term care, we have managed to come a bit farther down this rocky, slippery road.
Pretence
Dez went to bed that night. She had sat out on her little balcony watching the shadows grow long in the park across the street. When the street lights came on, she still hadn’t decided what she would do if Em’s lawyer said Martha’s duplex would have to be sold. Putting her sweater on, she went out for a walk to a coffee shop buzzing with patrons. She stood a moment in the doorway. Not a table in sight. Between the music jousting with the conversation, she changed her mind. “I’ll make coffee at home.” She held the door open for a young laughing couple wrapped around each other before making her escape into the early night. Home again, she did go off to bed. The fresh air had banished all her worries. She fell asleep moments after her head nestled into her pillow.
~~~~~
Monday morning, instead of waiting for Em to meet her in the afternoon, Dez drove out to the Estate. She stopped in the kitchen only long enough to get coffee and toast from Cook. “Is Em upstairs, Cook? I’ll take this upstairs ~ maybe you can give me some for Em.”
Always one step ahead of everyone, Cook gestured to the old dumbwaiter “Don’t need to do that, Miss Dez ~ coffee and toast already went up to her. She’s probably sitting down to eat it now. Sent up some strawberries too so you’d best get up there before she eats them all.”
Grateful, Dez gave Cook a kiss on her cheek, which surprised Cook to no end. Even if they had all gotten close in the last year, such a thing shouldn’t happen! Her employer’s sister?! But she just smiled and touched her cheek ~ after Miss Dez had turned away to go upstairs. “I wonder what’s got her so worked up? That’s just not like her.” Dez had always respected the strange upstairs/downstairs feeling that sometimes seemed present in the old place. Today, she felt oddly excited about this lawyer’s visit in the afternoon. Given her worries over the weekend, it didn’t make sense.
“Em ~ save me some strawberries.” Dez, halfway up the stairs, called out to her sister. “Don’t worry, I’ve kept a few back for you. Heard you talking to Cook and knew you’d want some. Why are you out here? We’ve got that appointment this afternoon ~ I thought that you would be busy this morning.” Dez put her toast and coffee down on the table. From the pouch slung over her shoulder she pulled out some papers yellowed with age. “Look at these Em. And don’t laugh. I had this plan this years ago but have never been able to do anything to make them real. And maybe I still won’t if the lawyer ~ what did you say his name was…Mr. Jordan? ~ says what I think he’ll say. But I want you to see them first………” Em held up her hand but her sister just kept talking. “Dez….Dez… what are you talking about? What plans? What worries?” She glanced at the papers Dez had given her. A lot of scribbles and notes, on one page a sketch, so faded she could barely see it. She held it out to her sister “What is this sketch Dez?”
“That’s what I want to show you.” She finished her toast, the last of her coffee, and ate up the last strawberry. “Are you finished eating? We need to go outside and I can show you what the sketch is.” She was out the door almost before her sister could say another word.
~~~~~
“You know. This could work, Dez.” The sisters were out at the jogging track. They had walked slowly around, stopping every now and then. Pointing, stepping off the path almost right in the shrubbery, pretending to sit on a non-existent bench, moving on. Animated conversation all the way to the far end. Dez took her sister over to the space where the old garage had been. More waving of arms sketching the outlines of what…a building of some kind.
“Dez! It’s almost noon! That appointment with Mr. Jordan is at two. We’d better get back to the house and have lunch. I need to stop and ask Digby if I should take anything with me…..You know..if this all works out, I mean with Mr. Jordan…..we’ll know if we could make it work.” Em sounded almost as excited as Dez.
Let’s go around to the kitchen door. Cook was making soup this morning so we should have a good lunch. As she reached to open the door, she stopped, paused and said “Just think, Em. This Writing Workshop is something I wanted to set up years ago. I’d almost forgotten about it. But I wanted to add something to the Estate that would bring in some money. It popped into my head ~ I didn’t even know if I still had my notes and that sketch.” Walking into the kitchen she muttered under her breath. “I don’t know for sure if it’s such a good idea or not.”
~~~~~
Mr. Jordan had his secretary clear his schedule for the afternoon. Although he had heard that Mrs. Beaufort had ‘gotten better’ since the reading of the will four years prior, he wasn’t taking any chances. Mr. Digby seldom spoke of his employer, but when he did it was with warmth. They had crossed paths at social functions where she had always been pleasant and sociable. She had seemed softer? Now her sister would be with her. He had no idea what she was like so thought it best to clear his afternoon.
His office was where he felt safe. The polished oak desk, heavy sage green curtains and the deep grey carpet kept things muffled. Law books, with a sprinkling of poets and playwrights, in floor to ceiling bookshelves felt solid. Diplomas hung on the wall reminded him that he had come a long way from the rowdy teenager he had been. ‘Mr. J. Jordan’ engraved on a brass name plate, a dark brown telephone and the Beaufort file were all that he had on his desk. He knew how pretentious he must seem to others. Yet on a sideboard, he had his own coffee machine, law firm mugs, cream and sugar. Tea and hot water for those that preferred it. Breaking his reverie, his always discreet secretary buzzed on his phone. He pressed a button. “Mrs. Beaufort and her sister are here. May I show them in?”
“Yes please.” Face mask on, he stood, greeting his client and her sister. “Mrs. Beaufort. So good to see you outside a society function. This is your sister?” Emelina was more nervous than she’d been in years. She hadn’t remembered this office being so patently rich feeling. Her voice belied her discomfort. “Yes. Dez Eliot ~ this is the family lawyer, Mr. Jordan.” Silent, she nodded her greeting. “Please leave your masks on if you feel comfortable. This pandemic, although not over, is still a problem for many. While I’m going over the will for you, I’ll be removing mine.” He walked to the sideboard. “Coffee? Tea?”
~~~~~
Emelina and Dez were silent while they walked back to Em’s car in the shadows of the office buildings. Climbing in to the SUV, Em started the car, Dez put on her seat belt. Hands on the steering wheel, Emelina leaned her forehead on it. And started to laugh. “I was so nervous!” Dez leaned against the window, tears rolling down her cheeks. “And I…..was……so……worried.” Her sister let go of the steering wheel and leaned back on the head rest. “Then….he offered us…coffee or tea!” She sat up, wiped her face with the back of her hand, buckled her seat belt and backed out of the parking space. They drove to the Estate discussing their plans all the way.
“We understand how dangerous a mask can be.
We all become what we pretend to be.”
~ Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind
between
this and that
bits and bobs
Laughing with friends
between
ordinary and plain
papers and cartons
Sensible plans
between
here and there
comings and goings
Coffee and snacks
between
photos and chatting ~
being ~ not doing.
“In between goals is a thing called life that has to be lived and enjoyed.”
~ Sid Caesar
