When we were children, summertime really was this delightful time-out-of-time because we were out of school. Most of us had responsibilities for chores–feeding the animals and giving them water and weeding the garden were my big ones most years–but the days stretched out with some leisure time for riding and hiking and lying in the grass, looking at clouds.
Many of you know I’m heading out of the country for three weeks…in about three weeks. There is so much to get done before I go–almost none of it related to the trip. Because I haven’t done all of that yet.
Exactly. Following your bliss, as I told someone earlier this week, is hard work.
The garden is in, weeded, mostly mulched. (Though I cleaned out the kitchen garden’s beds earlier this week and will replant there before I go–probably squash.) There are currants to be picked–later today–and the apple tree may be ready to be harvested by mid-July, though I won’t make cider until the fall when I can blend several different juices.
Writing is where I’ve fallen short–as anyone who reads my blogs will know. I have felt the loss of it–because I do love to write–but I keep stacking up things in the queue, knowing the time will come when it all burbles forth.
Summertime is still rich and wonderful but I need to find ways to reclaim the leisurely parts of it–reading outdoors in the cool of the evening, picking wildflowers from the wild places in my neighborhood (while there still are a few wild places), sitting quietly and doing…nothing at all.
Leisure. It is a good and noble pursuit.