counter productive

. . . a single black basalt mortar and pestle. That’s the only thing on my kitchen counter .  . . in my dreams.

I long for minimalism. Instead, I am drowning in stuff. Because of ‘renovation’, I have no closets. NO CLOSETS! Take a look around and imagine that you live with no closets. Bills? Shoes? Shopping bags? Spare hardware? They’re all at the front door alongside boxes of glass jars to be filled, pails of honey, a bronze bee door knocker, pail of sugar to mix for the hummingbirds, castor oil, vitamin E, and vanilla extract for products, plastic tomato clips, fish fertilizer . . . get the picture?

Oh, I have a few kitchen cupboards – heavy oak honey-coloured panel doors that were crafted by a former owner of our house. In fact, when Wally came to visit after we first moved in, he practically wept when he told us about how he made those doors. I didn’t dare tell him that I couldn’t wait to replace them.

My vision is wall to wall, floor to ceiling closets. European and sleek, seamless edges and a sliver of a stainless steel pull tab for opening and closing. Shelving and drawers are concealed inside to hold everything that is now spewing out and multiplying daily, as our busy season envelops us.

My present six-foot 60’s-style flowered arborite countertop’s inventory is (from south to north): wood bread box topped with assorted wax pieces for the salves, various product samples (honey ginger, cherry honey, grain mustard), an array of vitamin pill bottles, 4 quart basket of peaches, mixer, electronic scales, fresh mint in a bowl of water, fresh parsley in a glass of water, bowl of soap bits from shaping last batch of soap, Brita water pitcher, a honey glass from the Cayman Islands filled with jujubes that my brother’s friend brought, cooking utensil jar #1, cooking utensil jar #2 and #3 (tall, medium and short stuff), olive oil, Tom’s wine, my wine, bowl of new tomatoes, bowl of old onions, crock of assorted spices, bag of taco chips, . . . and a black basalt mortar and pestle.