A walk before the heat index reaches 100. The gifts of summer are many, though summer didn’t seem to arrive until yesterday. And with it the joy of swimming, flowers in their splendor, and garden goodies.
While floating round and round in the pool looking up into azure cloudless skies, thoughts of the child so often spoke of. Where is ‘she’ most of the time? Is there anything left of child I was? Maybe. But most of her died off. The child who took on so much all on her own aged in ways I wouldn’t have, and fast. Very fast, almost instantaneously.
But there is still a part that loves summer, remembering the love of water and running my horses. The abandon of all things serious for pleasure and fun. When someone says ‘Have a nice day,’ it is really, ‘Make a nice day.’ Because so much can be done to make it so if the effort is put forth, and it is work.
Talking to myself with kindness, acceptance, and understanding. Asking, what brings joy, and do it. And for me they are simple pleasures— walking in the fields, picking strawberries from Samuel’s garden, and his roses.
Roses and roses, including baskets upon baskets of petals plucked each morning… the scent intoxicating, brought indoors to dry. permeating the whole room with a delicious appeal. They make very special sachets.
Arranging bouquets is particularly pleasing especially coming from the abundant blossoms all around seeded and planted by my own hands. Watching creek-side while a raccoon takes a quick dip, shakes off, then scurries up the bank and away as a huge bull-frog splashes in.
Ahh summer, you are finally here…