Fences

For about seventeen summers, I’ve worked in my backyard, improving it bit by bit.  I started by tossing wildflower seeds in the dirt next to the house.  Each year they grew and spread and became the main source of color, attracting bees and yellow finches.  I’ve added dahlias and lilies, relocated plants for better light, and feasted on blackberries, purple pole beans, peppers, kale and tomatoes.  Luckily my lawn has been strong and has held up every year.  Until now.

Since my daughter and her dog moved in last August, my backyard has become a dump.  A perfect circle of dirt, Cooper’s race track, turns to a mud track that’s hard to avoid on a path to the garbage.  Oh yeah, and the garbage!  There are pieces of plastic planters splintered all over.  Every plant, bush and inch has been peed on.  Sticks and branches are strewn about and accented by poop piles and a not so stuffed stuffed bear.  Oh, it’s lovely!  On those warm days we had a couple of weeks ago I sat out there and grimaced for a half hour, reinforcing wrinkles.  Ugh!

I thought my yard could take it.  I thought its integrity could withstand the challenge.  I knew I was taking a chance when I agreed to the new arrangement.  But Cooper is a dog with great needs.

Likewise, I had hoped I’d done enough ground work to withstand the challenges of living with my daughter again.  But so gradually, we’ve eroded some of the ground covering we fertilized over the past few years living apart.  Parts of our relationship are hardier, like our sharing frustrations and joys about other relationships and daily events.  We bloom in laughter at ourselves and each other.  And we love nestling up together to watch Ally McBeal or Arrested Development on Netflix.  But I haven’t cultivated enough integrity to stand up to the continual treading over familiar, vulnerable territory.  We’re tracking bits of mud around the house, making my home feel unhomey at times.  I feel I’m the only one cleaning up after our messes.

The only way to reseed, I’m afraid, is to do it out of harm’s way, so the seeds can take hold, strengthen and spread.  And just when I finally come to that decision to give a month’s notice, my daughter gets sick and I can’t tell her.  We spend an evening together, cuddling, laughing, loving.  I’m thoroughly entertained by Cooper and his best friend Godfrey wrestling in my front room, scratching my wood floor, snagging threads on my couch.  My decision is dampened. 

Finding the balance between my serenity and the needs of my beautiful but needy roommates is no easy task for me.  I want Cooper to be happy.  I want my daughter to be happy.  I want my home to be my respite where I can be at peace.

Wise women tell me, “When you don’t know what to do, don’t do anything.”  I’m thankful for that permission.  In the mean time, I’m going to meditate, remember my faith in Good Orderly Direction, and maybe go buy some seed and fencing.  If I take on one little area at a time, seed and weed and fence it off for protection, remembering the bit by bit that I started with, maybe we can be good neighbors in one home a while longer.

Here’s my pasta loving daughter’s favorite dish. 

Stuffed Shells

1 package of jumbo shells, cooked and rinsed.  Leave them in cold water until you’re ready to stuff them so they don’t harden.

2 to 3 pounds of ricotta cheese (I use low fat.)

¼ to 1/3 c. grated Romano, parmesan, asiago cheeses (your choice)

1 eggplant peeled, cubed and sautéed in olive oil with oregano and basil, salt and pepper (I used to mash it to hide it in the cheese when my kids were young and wouldn’t eat green stuff.  Call it an invisible fence.)

1 package of frozen chopped spinach, thawed

About 3 cups of your favorite red sauce (I like vodka sauce.)

1 cup or more mozzarella, grated

In a large bowl, add dried grated cheeses to ricotta to taste.  Mash or leave in chunks the eggplant and fold in.  Squeeze liquid from chopped spinach and fold it in (not the liquid, the spinach.)  Now carefully spoon cheese mixture into shells, filling completely and maybe even a little rounded.  Arrange them in a large baking dish and spoon sauce over the top.  I usually spoon lots on one area for those who like lots of sauce and a little on another for those who like only a little.  Another invisible fence.  Sprinkle grated mozzarella on top, again varying the amount according to the needs of you and your partakers.  Cover with foil or a lid if you have it and bake for about 30 minutes at 375 degrees.

It’s easy to go overboard on these because they go down so easily.  But take it easy; it’s harder to keep a balance when you’re wider at the beam.