Summer, that season of such bounty, unfolds before us. And behind us. Maybe even within us.
It’s been a good run, so far.
We’ve been known to leave home, a handful of times. But always in our home away from home.
Slowly as a snail, we go to the good green places.
We’ve watched our mountains burn down and waited for rain.
We’ve been missing the frequent trips into said mountains (closed till rain comes), but getting occasional doses of green when we can.
Our meals are simple-simple. With the occasional pie.
Pulling the bedraggled weeds from the bedraggled vegetable patches (oh, it’s so dry!), making a feast from twenty two green beans and thirteen kale leaves. The bounty of less? Everything is precious!
Getting uber organized, but mostly on paper. Which is a pleasure in it’s own right.
Maida’s been learning to sit, and then to crawl, to delight us all endlessly.
Cora is her constant champion.
I’m saying no to too much of anything that calls me away from these empty-full days, from the gentle way life unfolds when there isn’t obligations or deadlines or ambition for more than a clean sink.
Thinking that there is one ambition I plan to fully indulge: learning to spin the rolls of fleece we carded these last few weeks.
Saying yes to the simple, nourishing, celebratory things that come along–knitting night with my compañeras is heaven. Live music on the plaza with all the locals is a constant pleasure.
Not to mention swinging in the hammock.
Or turning Thirty.
And especially not to mention swimming in the kiddy pool under the apple tree each afternoon, and gazing up into the green canopy and feeling kind of sad that there won’t be an apple harvest this year, and also strangely elated that I can continue this lazy streak well into autumn’s habitual canning season (okay, I’m mostly sad).
Happy that the Man of the Place is not so lazy. Happy for all the amazing things he’s accomplished on our humble city lot sized paradise.
Spending evenings writing in my journal, reading novels, knitting this and that. Only occasionally remembering to read blogs, and much less frequently to write a post here. I feel as if I’ve been freed at last from the World Wide Web. It is lovely.
In essence, this summer has been like a long retreat at a Vipassana meditation center where the refrain is nowhere to go, nothing to do, no-one to be.
We’re just here, in the backyard.
Thanks for dropping by!