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Who was to know, when I decided the best way to deter rodent visitors would be to get another cat, that she would have a heart-shaped mark behind her ear. And the clouds, they come and go.


Who was to know, when I decided the best way to deter rodent visitors would be to get another cat, that she would have a heart-shaped mark behind her ear. And the clouds, they come and go.


I have lived in my house for almost 20 years. The house came with a bottom of the line, circa 1977 Hechinger’s bathroom. The bathtub has been rusting for a over a decade, part of the faucet would come off when turning it off, etc.
Finding myself without any pets and between tenants, it seemed like a good time to renovate. Last week, in just a day, what was a bathroom, is now a gutted space. Amazing how quickly something can be rooted out and undone. It will be taking a lot longer to reconstruct.
What I am finding most challenging is not the physical chaos. I am used to it as an old house often needs work, and this house needed work (though it was not the kind of fixer-upper that was completely missing floors, electricity, and plumbing).
Rather, what I am wrestling with is my emotional reaction to the idea of having a brand new, beautiful bathroom. There is a big feeling guilty component to be spending money on something that feels not entirely necessary when so many are in need. So while the contractor is working on the construction, I am working with a wonderful opportunity to help reconstruct (post deconstructing) my emotional relationship with things. How do I find balance between honoring those in need, my impact on the planet, maintaining my house, and my enjoyment of beautiful things? How do I feel at peace with my decisions once they already have been made? How do I apply discrimination in my aesthetics to assist in this balance?
When I decided to make strawberry towers part of the new sleeping porch garden extension, Niraj Ray of Cultivate the City told me to remove all of the flowers until mid-May to allow the plants to develop leaves large enough to support sizable and sweet berries. He also suggested feeding them every time I water.
It has been a pleasure nurturing the plants and finally watching plump, juicy berries redden in the sun outside my study window.
Might this delicious lesson in the benefits of being patient be a lesson applicable to how and when and why to re-emerge post vaccination, but before the end of the pandemic?

If I only have a moment of respite in a busy day, I try to make it a good moment.
