I've been thinking a lot about ruts, lately ... life ruts ... not road ruts. Perhaps, that is because of the in-between season we are in ... in-between seasons seem to foster rut development ... both kinds ... though my ruminations have centred around the ruts of habit and routine.
Ruts and lethargy go together like kittens and cuddles. Ruts have a way of taking the gleam out of inspiration and the enthusiasm out of a day. Once you are tapped out of OOMPH ... it can be a very alusive concoction to replicate.
Staying up most of the night, reading or writing or sewing is a small act of defiance against the natural order of activities … and can offer, temporarily at least … a somewhat altered perspective ... outside the rut. Music ... reminiscent of a lighthearted time ... can go a long way towards making spirits bright. And I have found that gardens ... private and public ... are magical rut reducers … with their ever changing canvases of coloured leaves ... stark bare branches pinned against a gothic winter sky ... rebirth ... and ...
Needless to say, we all have our own very personal little ways of reminding ourselves what a gift life is ... when we need reminding. Mine is fudge ... mostly it's about making it for others ... though I do indulge myself in the odd piece. It was my Mother who introduced me to fudge ... She loved fudge .. and often, I suspect when she felt she was in a bit of a rut ... we'd smell that unmistakable aroma wafting from the kitchen.
Then she'd start to joke ... “I don't smell anything” ...“I never said I was making fudge”. She loved to tell the story of how her parents once ran a country store, in the 30's ... a 'just-the-essentials' kind of shop. Kids who had ridden their bikes for miles to spend the l or 2 cents they had earned doing chores, were so disappointed when there was nothing there for them, that my Mother began rising early to make fudge that she cut into pieces, wrapped in wax paper and sold for a penny. I am reminded of that when I make fudge for my own family ... a precious memory ...
A very precious memory ... which, I have come to discover ... combined with doing something nice for others ... out of the blue ... is the best rut buster there is.
photo/drawing: This is from a little doodle I did, years ago, while thinking back on my Mom's fudge – WB
©2019 Wendy Bourke