farmhouse Tuesday

I had a choice today:  use the few free morning hours on drafting a sketch of an Ocean post, or polishing some changed paragraphs in my Great Writing Project.

I chose the latter.

Over the years, working on writing projects never took priority. I already indulge my writing fancy here, on Ocean. Unlike people who really are brilliant at this craft, I do not live to produce the next series of sentences or pages. I did think that retirement would bring more opportunities to write, but when Snowdrop was born, I was thrilled to shift my attention to her care (as determined by her young parents). It's not that I no longer had a desire to write, it's just that she trumped it all. I believed then and I believe now that the time I spend with her is far more important than the time I spend on improving sentences in my Great Writing Project.

But this morning, before Snowdrop was scheduled to come to the farmhouse (if it's Tuesday...) I had a bit of time and I decided to move ahead with the editing of my manuscript and as a result, I left Ocean writing til the evening.

Well that's never a good idea! By the time we finish our dinner (home made pizza tonight!) and I clear the dishes and we munch on a bunch of chocolate squares and I pour myself a second glass of wine, I am as near to being asleep without actually being asleep as you can get. And so you get no text from this day. Just photos. Which, in the case of this Tuesday, moves the Ocean story along just fine!




















































Only this last photo requires an explanation. We are about to set out on a walk: my daughter, Snowdrop and I. Only, my daughter gets a bit teary eyed. Tomorrow, her work obligations take away most of the flexibility that she has managed to retain in the past months. The semester begins and her attention has to shift toward the classroom.  And so she looks on at Snowdrop and goes through that hard reckoning that most every parent confronts: how is it that I can leave you now, when you are so darn engaging and grand and just about all that I ever wanted in life?

Me, I'm old enough to have lived through numerous such "letting go" moments with my children and yet I am touched at the poignancy of them all now, as I watch her embark on her own path of balances and accommodations.

That's all. The night has set in. Rest: it's time to rest.