fits and starts

This past week was the first week-long vacation I have taken in the summer in years.

It felt like I would never get everything done in time to get there, to “time-off,” to the choice of doing nothing and everything.

But I made it, and there it was, a week spread out before me waiting to be filled with family and laughter and gypsy living.

And free time.

Which of course, is never really free. But there is something to be said for having no agenda, for simply rolling along with the hours, come what may.

Reading in the shade of tall, tall pines for most of an afternoon. Morning tea before a campfire. Using the moon as your night light.

Filling time with less than instead of too much.

While I was away, this tiny cucumber grew large enough to be harvested. Life went on without me here to watch its progress.

Just like always.

I haven’t picked it yet, but I still have two days to bask alongside it in the glow of the sun.

Most likely, I will spend them with a book in hand.

And lazy, leisurely dinners filled with the fruits of my labor.

It’s always, always, good to be home.

 

 

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