The passage of time at every turn

By Joanne Peterson | Oct 24, 2013

Sometimes when I sit down to write a column, I’ve already chosen a topic. Other times, my thoughts are all over the map, and I cannot make up my mind what to write.

This is one of those evenings when I have a variety of ideas tumbling over one another, none of which seems especially notable.  Some days are like that, my mind leaping from one thought to another, leaving behind a trail of undeveloped ideas. (I have a sense that I’m not alone.)

One thing on my mind is the recent Edmonds High School class of ’58 reunion, our 55th, a casual event bringing together 60 or so classmates and significant others who reminisced, ate and became re-acquainted from 11 a.m. until 5 p.m., when the last of us finished clean-up at the rented grange hall, turned out the lights and went home to put our feet up.

This reunion was a reminder that it’s never too late to re-connect with the people we went to school with; it’s definitely worth the time and effort to nurture the relationships of our youth.

The next thing I’m thinking of is movies.  This week at our amazing Edmonds Theatre I saw the movie “Captain Phillips.” We are fortunate in Edmonds to have the movie theater many of us enjoyed during our school years.

As I’ve said before, I love sitting in that theater, letting my mind drift back to childhood movies when it was The Princess Theatre, and my grandpa and I walked to the Saturday matinees to see Roy Rogers, Tom Mix and Gene Autry.  (I do not recall Grandpa favoring any movies not involving cowboys.  I was a horse-crazy little girl wearing my Montgomery Ward cowboy boots to the movies, so Grandpa’s tastes suited me just fine.)

But back to “Captain Phillips” – I don’t do well with stress-filled action films and will admit I missed much of the first half of the movie, scooted way down in my seat with my coat pulled over my face. (What I saw of the movie was excellent.)

Finally, I (still) am thinking about gardening.   Sometimes I assume I have my gardening finished for the year, except for the planting of some spring-flowering bulbs, and that everything is in order. I let myself imagine that everything is tidy, and that my work is pretty much done.

Then I take a closer look at the deck and realize that I still have quite a few summertime plants enduring through October foggy days and cool nights.

It’s nearly November? Somehow, the geraniums, the mint and lemon sage and the healthy glossy asparagus fern haven’t gotten the word. So it doesn’t seem right to end their summer run just because I’m feeling like they should be giving in, giving up. I guess I’ll give them all another week or so.  I think plants deserve time and patience, just as people do.

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