Remodeling self.

I think I've morphed into...I'm not sure, what. It must have something to do with maturing (note, I don't say aging). Maturing in attitude makes a difference to me. I wonder if the remodeled exterior of people actually makes a difference. I'm not so sure about that.

My landscaper came over to the house today with his helper, to give major haircuts to the plants, trees, and the ivy wall (about 15 feet high and at least 30 feet long) separating the neighbors from, well, me. I wonder what he might do me if I gave him some clippers and said trim my hair.

I am constantly amazed at what Sal does to and with my yard. Each season, I think it's the best season.  In the spring all is bursting out.  In the summer the bounty comes forth from my container garden and from the roses, hydrangeas, and other unnamed things from the ground that just show up, unannounced..  The autumn is a time for giving up the ghost, as the plants, still productive, just kind of wilt away.  And winter, after this haircut, all looks so trim, so neat, and so barren, and so right. This is just like life.

My one neighbor hires Sal to maintain his yard, too...which is a bit difficult since the yard is all dug up, covered up, then dug up again, and again, because the ancient old lady (in the form of a house) is getting a complete, total makeover, from the foundation to the full interior. We have rules here that owners can't modify a pre-1942 house on the outside, without city permission.

I need to keep reminding myself that this project, too, shall pass. That even at its worst, the re-do is better than no re-do. But now I'm talking about my life, the inside, the heart of me. That can be changed. And I don't need city permission to do a slight change or an overhaul on my life.

Something to think about.

Live richly, marilyn

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