Such a gorgeous day and yet I do nothing new with it. I'm taking a pause from thinking creatively about the day before me. In part because I've fallen behind with practically everything -- emails, straightening the play room, lily snipping, so that only this day's blooms remain.
Yes, there are still lilies to snip, though I admit, the time needed for this is minimal. (And yes, it did rain a tiny bit last night.)
(the old familiar path...)
(good morning cheepers!)
Over breakfast, Ed and I talk about what it would be like to live in a country where we could not speak the native language. A friend of his noted that he'd look forward to immersing himself in something that new. But, Ed and I are ancient! His view is that if we ever spent time in a new culture, surrounded by people who speak a new for us language, we would be like those people who came to America as grandparents and who never could master the English language, relying on their kids to be their guide dogs.
I protest this, but just a little. I've grown much more fluent in French in my recent years of travel to France and yet I also have to admit that I'm a little stuck now: I navigate familiar terrain, using familiar constructs and vocabulary. It's as if I have accepted the fact that I will never speak like a native and so I stay in the old world of what I know.
I mention this because I have heard many people say that when they retire, they will study a new language/musical instrument/art form. I admire the words, even if I don't quite believe that there will be a follow through. It's a warning to all you pre-seniors. If you want to embark on something different later in life, get your foot in the door now, while you can. Be that dilettante, test new waters. You may be an amateur, you may feel you haven't the time to do an all out effort. It doesn't matter: start early. Most likely, you wont want to take that plunge once you pass a comfy, entrenched age of, say, 67.
As for the rest of my day? I spend it mostly on the porch. It's just so beautiful now! Oh, maybe we don't have the flowers we once did, but maturity is not unattractive.
I Zoom with friends, I write letters to children, And at the end of the day, with the last warm rays of the sun on my back and while Ed is biking his Wednesday ride, I walk up and down the streets of the new development thinking minor thoughts. Not great thoughts, not creative thoughts, but wonderful inconsequential minor thoughts.
We should all have such calm days, don't you think?
.
Yes, there are still lilies to snip, though I admit, the time needed for this is minimal. (And yes, it did rain a tiny bit last night.)
(the old familiar path...)
(good morning cheepers!)
Over breakfast, Ed and I talk about what it would be like to live in a country where we could not speak the native language. A friend of his noted that he'd look forward to immersing himself in something that new. But, Ed and I are ancient! His view is that if we ever spent time in a new culture, surrounded by people who speak a new for us language, we would be like those people who came to America as grandparents and who never could master the English language, relying on their kids to be their guide dogs.
I protest this, but just a little. I've grown much more fluent in French in my recent years of travel to France and yet I also have to admit that I'm a little stuck now: I navigate familiar terrain, using familiar constructs and vocabulary. It's as if I have accepted the fact that I will never speak like a native and so I stay in the old world of what I know.
I mention this because I have heard many people say that when they retire, they will study a new language/musical instrument/art form. I admire the words, even if I don't quite believe that there will be a follow through. It's a warning to all you pre-seniors. If you want to embark on something different later in life, get your foot in the door now, while you can. Be that dilettante, test new waters. You may be an amateur, you may feel you haven't the time to do an all out effort. It doesn't matter: start early. Most likely, you wont want to take that plunge once you pass a comfy, entrenched age of, say, 67.
As for the rest of my day? I spend it mostly on the porch. It's just so beautiful now! Oh, maybe we don't have the flowers we once did, but maturity is not unattractive.
I Zoom with friends, I write letters to children, And at the end of the day, with the last warm rays of the sun on my back and while Ed is biking his Wednesday ride, I walk up and down the streets of the new development thinking minor thoughts. Not great thoughts, not creative thoughts, but wonderful inconsequential minor thoughts.
We should all have such calm days, don't you think?
.
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