Sunday

People who write are readers at heart. I don't know a good author who isn't in love with good books (definition of "good" being subjective, of course). But I have always wondered -- how is it possible to have time for both? At least in the amounts you want to devote to them? There is, of course, life itself, which interferes with everything, everything that you may want to do. Care giving, relationship building, cleaning the bathroom, for Pete's sake, to say nothing of cooking meals and taking the time to pay attention to the needs of a friend. But even if life creates a constant buzz of pressing details requiring your attention and input, still, a writer/reader will always find the time to put it all aside and sit down to read or write. The point is that the two -- reading and writing -- are always in competition with each other. Both ask you to create distance between yourself and the rest of the world. They demand a clear head and a readiness to dive into a story line. So when you find yourself with time for it, which do you choose?

I ask this because I have a week before me that is nearly free of outside commitments. The young family has a schedule that places their kids in the care of others and my mom is finally stabilizing, after a period of some tumult in her well being. I have a tooth that needs to come out. The rest of the week -- I've deliberately kept unscheduled.

My first impulse was to go back to writing. I could do that! I had stopped when baby Sparrow was born. I could finally creep to completion of my Great Writing Project. But then, I began to read book reviews and suddenly my Kindle content grew. I want to read all of these highly recommended books! Summer reading is the best! In the coolness of a cafe or the warm sunshine out on the porch -- it's just bliss!

But shouldn't I be writing?

Can you think of nicer dilemmas to have before you? I cannot.



This Sunday is typical for July in the Upper Midwest: sunny and quite warm. And buggy! When I go out early in the morning to feed the cats, I am attacked. Here I am, surrounded on all sides by beautiful flowers...






... literally throwing themselves at me...






... delighting me no end ...






... but I cannot pause. I am being eaten alive.

I almost retreat inside, but then some of that Polish peasant stock pushes me to stay outside. Snip those lily heads! You'll like your garden so much more if it's reasonably well tended!

(the front bed)






I snip 365 spent lilies today. It takes an hour and I am swollen with the effort of keeping bugs off my face, out of my eyes, out of my mouth.

It is luxurious to step into a cool bug free farmhouse after that! Cleaning the bathroom feels like a fifteen minute interlude at a spa. And breakfast, on the porch? Fabulous.






Afterwards, Ed dutifully goes out to run the tractor-mower over some of the most overgrown grassy weedy spots. He promised he'd get it under control this weekend and time is running out for him. I ask him to start up the hand mower and I attack the spots where the big tractor machine cannot reach. There are many and some are hilly and terribly overgrown. After an hour of this, my head is buzzing from the exertion. But, the job is done and the farmette lands look great, even if you cannot fully enjoy them until we bring the bugs under control. That will happen on Tuesday.






There is still an hour left to the morning and I put it to good use: I prepare brunch foods for the young family. They cannot come to dinner today, so I invited them to a noon meal instead. Nothing complicated -- pancakes and bacon, farm eggs and smoked salmon, some of those wonderful croissants from Chicago, and fruit. So many delicious fruits out there right now! It's really a grand time to be fixing brunch stuff!

Snowdrop comes with her sheep from Wales. How appropriate! The photo book I put together of our trip came in the mail yesterday. The whole trip comes spinning round again as they take the time to read about these familiar travel moments.






I asked if they wanted to eat inside or out on the porch (it's 83f, or 28c out there, though we do have a fan). The porch wins every time. You just cannot get enough of it when the summer days finally settle in to give us bright warm hours and flower filled vistas.






Inside play for a little while...

















... and then they're off to pursue their week-long project, while I tidy up and eventually sit down on the couch and lose myself in thought -- to read? or to write? Which one??