I'm concerned about my attention span.

For several years, my husband and I have taped all of the tv programs or movies we'd like to watch using a DVR. If you've ever used one, you know that this process allows the watcher to fast forward through commercials (or scary parts) which, for us, is the primary purpose of using it. Watching programs on "memorex," as we refer to it here, also gives us the chance to pause for as long as we'd like or to replay something we might not have seen or heard well enough. When I travel in my car, I most often listen to a book-on-tape or on the rare days I'd like to listen and sing along with music, a music CD. The player in my car affords the same luxuries as the DVR at home: fast forward, replay, pause.

OK. So . . .

Yesterday, while driving WITHOUT A NEW BOOK TO LISTEN TO, I turned on the local NPR radio station and was listening to an engaging and interesting conversation about copyright law. Most of you know where I'm going with this for one of these reasons:
1) you found this blog because you KNOW me
B) you are a very intelligent personage
or
3) you read the title of this entry.

The radio interviewer made a comment in response to the attorney he was talking with that I missed. Yep, just plain missed it. My mind wandered, I blanked out for a minute (a frightening thought since I was driving), but whatever the reason, my personal pay-attention muse split city for at least a minute. I looked down at the radio with absolute confusion: no replay? Nope, the show was live, complete with commercials and everything. No way to hear what I had missed. RAT FINK! The process of thinking about what I'd missed caused me to miss a few more minutes of their conversation and then: bad word.

Sadly, this is not the first time I've noticed this. I think I am so used to being able to play back what I'm watching or listening to, that I don't pay full attention. Well, obviously! 

I tell you this, dear reader, 'cause I'd like to ask you to do me a favor: the next time we're talking, either in person or on the phone (that is if I know you and we do such things together), please observe my behaviour. If it appears that I space out, or ask you to repeat things frequently, or just have a certain blankness about me, please point it out. I may have been momentarily disconnected from my pay-attention muse, you know, just spaced out, or I might have moved directly into meditation, in the hope of improving my mental abilities - just not at a very appropriate time. Either way, if you'd be so kind, please gently guide me back.

I truly hope I do a better job of staying present and paying attention when I'm in an actual conversation. I think I do, but what do I know? I might spend large portions of our conversations sounding like someone losing their hearing. What? Excuse me?

Your thoughts?

I may or may not enjoy this. We'll just have to see . . .

It is late autumn here and the weather seems to have turned once again toward winter. It's 32°F right now and didn't warm up much more than that all day. The ground is frozen, and yet there are allysum and pansies still blooming. A little purple primula (primrose) surprised me last week with three precious blossoms, deep purple with bright yellow centers. Weird, or so I think, and most welcome. My concern for the primula is its blooming now, wondering if it will be able to bloom in it's "proper" time next spring. Hmmm . . .
Autumn is one of my favorite seasons. The others are spring, winter and summer - mayhaps even in that order. Nah, spring heads the list! Autumn is nearly over, though, and the days have grown both short and chilly. After dawdling and creatively avoiding the tasks of closing down all the flower beds and the vegetable garden, Rick and I finished the last of these tasks this weekend. Everything I love, love, love (from asparagus, strawberries, delphinium and eryngium to lilies, crocosmia, heuchera and anemones) have been lovingly tucked in with an insulating blanket of either straw or maple leaves. All the tools and equipment are cleaned and in the shed and the containers from the deck are empty and stored there, too. Where there were trowels, shovels and hoes there are now snow shovels. Yep, winter is on its way.

This is enough for my first message. I want to see how it looks, how it feels to type a web address and find myself there on this tin can string called the internet. And I want to think about what this writing IS for me. So, I'll come back later and talk some more. For now, I wish you a peaceful heart. Ciao!