I am never bored. There is always so much to do. Reading an important part of that 'to do' in our lives. Irving and I, from the time we were old enough to read, valued the public library. It's where we occasionally went out together as 14-year-olds to explore the racks and make our choices. We'd also spend time together walking to area parks, just to be together in green spaces. Those early attractions for us have never changed over the years.

 

But I do get bored when I happen to look at myself in the mirror. For one thing, I can't believe it's me. Irving assures me it is and he should know. For years I was discontent and bored with the way I appeared physically. And I developed over time a compulsion to cut my hair, and did it obsessively, until my hair became a cap over my scalp, it was so short.

 

Irving would often look at me after one of these compulsive shearings and remark: at it again? getting pretty short. So about a year and a half ago I decided to put down the shears and let my hair grow. I did this once before, about 25 years ago, and let my hair grow so long I would scoop it to the top of my head, fasten it and let it 'waterfall' over the back of my head. Until I got tired of that too, and the croppings began anew.

 

 

This time around my hair had grown fairly long. It took forever to dry after my morning shower-and-shampoo. It was fine swept up in a roll or a pony tail, but invariably stray bits would begin to fall into my face or tickle down my neck. What's worse, the house was beginning to accumulate long strands of hair on rugs, particularly in our bathroom, and I hate that.

So last night I suddenly decided just before turning out the lights for bedtime that I'd get rid of it. Be right back, I said to Irving as I leaped out of bed. It took no time at all for me to shorten my hair substantially. And I felt pretty good about it. When I got back in bed, Irving scrutinized me, and beamed. That was what I was looking for.

 

I'm now wearing what has turned out to be a 1920s bob. This morning Irving finished evening out the back from strays I hadn't captured. Funny thing, it's as though I've got two layers of hair; the underlayer dark, almost black, and the overlayer is grey. It feels good and I like the way it looks -- for now, anyway. It's a lot less bothersome, don't have to pin it up or back, it just behaves itself. Except when I'm in the throes of gardening or cleaning, and then it needs a bit of discipline imposed.

 

It's been a busy and productive day (house-cleaning), and a lovely weather day. Jackie and Jillie patiently awaited the afternoon when we were all free to head out to the ravine for a pleasant trip through the forest. At 21C, with a cooling breeze and full sun (absent in the forest interior under the shading canopy) there was plenty to take our attention, as always.

 

This summer's crop of berries is still holding on, plenty to still reach edible ripeness, and Jackie and Jillie were given their share this afternoon. The jewelweed growing alongside the forest creek is in full bloom, their tiny bright orange flowerheads blazing in the sun, and beside them colonies of Queen Anne's lace and purple loosestrife, a wildflower-gardener's delight.