Sunday

In my view, there are two types out there – the one who cleans the house just before leaving for vacation and the one who does not (presumably to clean it when she gets home).

I spent the morning cleaning.

Ed tells me – you could write a book in the hours you spend cleaning.
I answer – I wouldn’t be me if I lived in grime and therefore the book would not be my book.

At midday, I say goodbye to my balcony garden.





Ed loads up my pots in the pickup, arranging them carefully on a bed of woodchips. (It’s not that he deliberately put the chips there for my pots – his truck carts loads of chips all summer long.) I feel like the parent who says goodbye to her kids going off to camp. Be good! Don’t die on me! (Ed’s cat caregiver will, I hope, water these when the rains slow down this month.)


Late in the day, I bike to my office to finish up mundane tasks there. The path, so bleak during the early months of spring, is a ribbon of green now.





How is it that everything can change so quickly?

One minute you’re paddling along, the next minute you’re in the water...






One minute the sky is cornflower blue, the next minute there’s hale and lightening. Plants, be careful now! I miss you! And I look forward to your return to my balcony!