I swept all the little flowers off the patio and paths yesterday, which I think doesn’t reduce the number of bees, it just displaces them. (Relatedly, I noticed last night that the big birdfeeder in the backyard is swarmed with bumblebees. The birdfeeder is empty and has been for a couple of weeks, because of recommendations to take down feeders in order to slow the spread of some sort of songbird disease. I was going to start re-filling it, because what I’ve been reading suggests that the threat to birds is down, but now I’m hesitant because, you know, bees. Why are there bees in my empty birdfeeder?) So the drunk bees are relocated to the grass, and everything is fine, except that when I walk in the grass with shoes on it’s death to the snails. If I step barefoot on a snail, I can usually react in time to not squish it, but I know I took out two snails yesterday while wearing sandals and oh, the drama.
Today’s card is the Ace of Cups, which the book says represents “the beginning of exciting new phases” and a “whole new start” that can “revitalize your spirit.” Which all sounds lovely. One piece of the “oh I’m so old” mopey feeling has been the sense that the future isn’t a set of branching paths anymore–the person I am right now is the person I am, and while I’m very happy with the person I am, I’m sort of out of chances to be someone different. I’m a high school teacher and administrator, and I’m never going to be a wildlife photographer or a travel writer or a marathon runner. Saying this out loud, it starts to feel ridiculous–of course people can, and do, start new hobbies or new jobs or new lifestyles even when they’re much older than I am now. So this feeling is a lie, but it’s still there. It’s not so much about the specifics as about the hazy possibilities–that sense I had fifteen or twenty years ago, that someday I might be a person who was different. (calmer? more interesting? more creative? a better friend?)