rebellion

A commenter asks -- is this spell of nonstop work typical?
No, not at all. I have an unusual semester of teaching a subject matter that overlaps only a little with work I've done before and so the amount of reading that I have to do (to say nothing of lecture writing) is voluminous.

But, I'm fast approaching a turning point (in ten weeks!) and I do realize that it cannot be fun to read about endless work and so I'm poking my nose out a little more and feeling a whole lot better for it.

For example, on Tuesday, I slammed the book shut and went out to water the newly planted irises. And that lead to feeling sorry for the neighboring plants which seemed pretty dry and before the morning was over I had spent a hefty forty-five minutes with hose in hand, oblivious to the work world, oblivious to pretty much anything beyond my garden.
















Such a resilient place it is! Though if you look closely, the greens aren't so green anymore. A muted golden tone is starting to set in.






After classes, I again steered rosie past the lesser lake. This is the transition: the calming moment at the end of a long day.






And by the time Ed brought some take out Indian food for supper, I was ready to let go of it all for the day.

Except that you can't really fully let go. Clarifications, notes on top of my notes -- I came back to it all again at midnight and then, too, in the middle of the night, so that by morning, I was again thinking how restless this season has been for me.

But, on the upside (and there is always an upside!), the morning was beautiful, we ate breakfast on the porch, and I had a chance to take a photo of it all. Note the roof: slowly, it's coming down. Slowly but surely -- words to live by.