Sunday

A dazzling sky, brisk gusts of wind, just a tease of rain clouds in the distance (we haven't had rain since I came back and there is none in the near forecast so it would not be a bad thing to get a sprinkle of showers). That sets the stage for my Sunday.

So what to do with it? Give the morning away to farmhouse cleaning?

No. Or, not entirely. I give the place a fifteen minute wipe down. That's it.

Ed suggests a bike ride.

No. Those clouds on the horizon might tease us right into a thunder shower. We have great weather coming up all week long. We'll ride another day.

Breakfast on the porch?

Yes! After a quick garden prune (deadheading a few spent lilies).

We're so pokey with the meal that one surely might call it lunch.






And then? A walk through the garden...











...and this is the delightful part. The highlight of the afternoon.






And then I turn my attention to the terribly unsexy project of weeding the raspberries. It has to rank right down there with cleaning out the chicken coop as the farmette's most unappealing task. The raspberries hold a good portion of our mosquito population -- we never spray there, not even cedar oil and so they know they have a safe haven. And it's prickly work. And the ground is hard for want of rain so pulling weeds, even through wood chips, is tedious. Need more reasons?

But I'm determined. We got the beds in order this year. So much work went into those darn beds! So long as my hands are functional and my back is not protesting, I'm not letting them fall back into disarray!

So I pull weeds and clip spent canes and now Ed does have sympathy pangs and comes out to join me and sure enough, we get the job done. Good for another month or so (with minor touch ups of course).

And now lunch?

No. After working hard, we're rarely hungry. He picks up his favorite coconut popsicle and I take a banana and we position ourselves on the porch and gaze out at the sky: a sure set up for an afternoon nap. But do we nap?

No. I have some minor meal preparations, because it is Sunday and my daughter and her husband are here for supper which surely calls for baking a blueberry pound cake...






And just as I step out to get the grill going for dinner, the rain comes down. With great abundance.

No matter. We're on the porch -- safe. Always safe. From the bugs, from a harsh summer sun, from the rain. With color -- somewhat bleary and impressionistic in the rain -- on three sides. A place to let go of worry.






The downpour doesn't last. By the time dinner is ready, the sun is peeking through and the world glistens and sparkles, refreshed, ready for the next round.


 


My next round is tomorrow. But it surely was a splendid Sunday. For you as well, I hope.