Unless

Inspirational song: Jar of Hearts (Christina Perri)

Growing up, in completely different situations in different parts of the country, Mr S-P and I both seemed to consider The Lorax our favorite Dr Seuss book. If you've read even a single other essay in this blog, you know how it affected both of us. There isn't a place we have lived that we haven't planted something in the ground, one way or another. We've invested in trees that we left behind in rental properties. We refer to plant nurseries and outdoor sections of big box stores as "Danger Zones." We looked at the wide expanses of freshly-placed sod in Park West as a blank canvas. And we have been racing against the clock to transform the front corner of the yard into a brightly-colored flowerbed-cum-privacy screen. Granted, most of my effort has been purchasing plants and pointing at where they go. But several times now I have participated in the dirt clod removal from the clumps of grass (mostly crabgrass) that is being removed in favor of all the flowers. Yesterday and today we spent time on the central focal point of the bed. We have new watermelon-sized rocks collected from recent cross-country travels, and buckets full of smaller rocks we saved over the years. There are even some from the rural vacation property my grandparents had in Oklahoma. There is now a big ring of boulders in the center of the bed. It's filled in with reclaimed dirt, and we will plant a few feature plants up on it. As the last third of the rocks went into place, I looked at it and said one word. "Unless." The man totally knew what I meant. It's the key point to the Lorax. "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, it's not going to get better. It's not." I might come up with a sign of some sort, either painted or carved wood, and put that word there. It might be my new slogan.

I'm still in limbo. I have to sit and wait for other people to make decisions on their own schedules. So I took the day to try to heal a little. The first night of melatonin last night didn't do me much good. It took until 1 am to fall asleep, and I was mostly done with it by 5. Maybe it's like all the other things I take, and it doesn't really do you much good until it's built up in your system a bit. Whatever it takes. I will sit and enjoy my flowers while I don't have the power. And I'll enjoy them again later, when I do.