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August 23, 2012
Nice evening on the deck, watching our hummingbirds fight each other.  They have an abundance of feeders, all of which I clean and fill faithfully.  There is plenty for everyone. And yet they fight each other, chasing each other out of the garden.  

The new garden is not half the size of the old one, and it's a mile away. But the hummingbirds found us almost immediately. And there are two regulars here, not just one -- I rarely saw two hummers at once in the old place. The view of them from the new deck is better than the one we had from the picnic table under the dogwood tree at the old place -- we are closer to them, the entire garden being so much smaller.

The bedroom is about a third the size of our old one -- really tiny. Put an 19th/century four poster bed in the center and there's little room for anything else. But I can see stars in the sky from my pillow at night, and that's got to count for something. The size issue is also true of the bathroom -- if two people want to be in there at once, they need to know each other very well. But it has its original floor tiles from 1940, from way before retro was cool.

Big doings at our old house, I see. It is still purple, but that won't last. It looks like the dogwood tree is no more -- they've excavated the whole back yard, and added on to what was already a large house, so it's half again as big as it was. And they ditched the bamboo grove -- so they won't ever see how the the tall plants bend almost to the ground under the weight of heavy snow, graceful arches of green with crowns of white. Some roses are left, but the bee balm is all gone. I guess they don't know how much hummingbirds like bee balm.

I strive not to be judgmental. Try not to use words like "yahoo" or " grotesque" when I talk about it and -- since other people can't hear my inner monologue -- I mostly succeed. But thinking about the old place is like hearing news of an old amour -- he's doing that? With her? He always told me he didn't like brunettes! In some situations, neutrality is simply too much to expect.

And life has gone on. We've succeeded in downsizing before we were forced into it suddenly by a health crisis. I remain oddly thrilled at the smallness of everything here, remain aware that this house is actually not small, not at all. Not in comparison with the dwellings of almost everyone else in the world.

Enough, is what it is. It's just enough.


Here's a song by the Andrews Sisters, about a girl who doesn't think she has enough. It's as old as our bathroom. Enjoy.
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