May Madness

I’m hoping June will be quieter

Well, my crazy May is now officially past. It has been a succession of weekend travel, a baby shower, beloved guests, garlic mustard season, construction (still not quite over, but maybe the worst of it), organizing, preparing, cooking, and serving (with friends) a dinner for 60 people, and a trip to Chicago yesterday to transport 1.4 tons of books—about which more some other time, although Julie—she of Christmas tree fame—commented as we were saying goodbye: What can you write about today? It all went too smoothly.

I am tired, and in need of some restoration of the spirit. If you know me at all, that means solitude and an empty schedule. This does not mean doing nothing, you understand. It means doing the main things: thinking, writing, gardening, and hanging out with my husband, my dogs, and a few friends here and there.

After returning from Chicago late yesterday afternoon, my first small act of restoration was to sit on the terrace with my husband and happy dogs. My second was to walk the property with Gardening Soulmate, Joe, and talk about our plans, including our ongoing attack on the garlic mustard—of which Joe estimates he removed one hundred pounds. But in the process we were pleased to see the advance of the native ephemeral Jeffersonia—now popping up in new places and spreading there, with many healthy seed pods—the blue cohosh, and other native plants; the new tulip poplar saplings; a horse chestnut sapling, the lushness of the hosta beds, and, unfortunately, a few beginnings of poison ivy, which is not great, but, at least, is not an invasive.

Last night, when my husband finished a late podcast on deep theological matters, we drank champagne and ate orange dreamsicle frozen custard to celebrate the 1.4 tons of books. The moon was nearly full and the solar light was shining on Dave amidst the ferns, and I was struck again by how beautiful it is to live here. It doesn’t matter where I’ve been or what a good time I’m having. Most of the time all I can think of is: how soon can I be back home?

And now I am for a while, thanks be.

Happy Friday.

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”And all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”~Julian of Norwich

These posts are about finding the beauty in daily life, even amid the craziness, uncertainty, and anxiety. Reality is not going away, but these are the only days we get, so we have to relish their small beauties while we have them. If you are a paid subscriber, please know how deeply grateful I am for your support. The kindness and enthusiasm of your comments buoy me and keep me writing, but the paid subscriptions are an extra vote of confidence I truly appreciate. These posts will always be free, however, so if all you can do is share, that is helpful, too. Whatever you decide, I’m glad you’re here.

And now for your gratuitous dog (and garden) photos:

Eli brings me his elephant….

Eli had a rough day yesterday, frightened by the sound of the nail gun. He lay on top of his Dad, trembling.

We’ve had a succession of beautiful days, with more to come.