The long but not terribly unkind knot of winter slowly unravels, and plans for future guests slowly take shape for the warmer seasons. Preparing for guests is one of life’s happier experiences, and I’ve leaned into and loved it ever since I was a kid and we would eagerly begin getting ready for the all-too-rarely occasional visit from family or family friends.
This year, it begins slowly, as I start to take apart the canopy that saw its last bit of shade giving-life depart thanks to a squirrel’s sharp claws, which made razor-quick shreds of the worn canvass. It’s another neglected bit of wreckage left from last summer, when I couldn’t even bring myself to take down the candy for the winter season. Maybe part of me knew it was time for a new set-up.
As the temperatures crawled closer toward fifty degrees, I stepped outside in the late afternoon and began unscrewing the rusty bolts, freeing the posts from their wooden base, and piling up all the dirty pieces in the side yard. Later we will rent a dumpster and get rid of two canopy sets that now sit cluttering up the side of the house. All in the name of creating a beautiful space.
The Guest House
by Jalaluddin Rumi
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
In our main bathroom, a new vanity mirror cabinet finally hangs on the wall above the sink. The lighting demands a different paint job, another task that feels onerous, overwhelming, and impossible. Eyeing the walls wearily, I make a mental list of what will be needed – tape, paint, paint brush – because no matter how many times I paint a room, I never save the brushes. The idea of preparation may be its own source of inspiration. The feeling is familiar, the feeling is fine.
