week of friends

It really was not planned to be that intensely focused on friends. The week just filled itself with people in the way that it does when you open yourself up to the possibilities. And tonight capped it with a dinner that truly was extra special icing on an already grand cake.

That, of course, came in the evening. The day? Well, with all the sunshine and dry weather, I needed to finish working on the front flower strip. I do it early. Very early. Right after a quick feeding of the animals and an inspection on what's going on in the courtyard-facing flower fields.

(one large lilium, exploding; the rest -- still holding back)

(the first of the delicately hued day lilies)

(getting to be taller than the house!)

(these always bloom ahead of the pack!)

The front strip needs a good weeding job. But the dirt there is so dry that the hose soak has to come first, otherwise you cannot pull out the roots of the grasses and weeds that sprout in the tough soil. In all, it's a lot of work, but I finish it! It's not magnificent, it's not sumptuous, but it's good enough. 

It's close to noon by the time we sit down to breakfast. I am so in need of a rest that we linger on the porch for a long long time.

With a fan, it's very manageable, even as the temperatures are once again creeping up to over 30C (87F). 

As we sit back and lightly rock on the springy chairs, I'm filled with that sense of wellbeing that comes from a very deliberate acceptance of all that a day may present. Ed and I share in this purposeful contentment, preferring to quietly watch swallows dart in and out of the garage than to list and review all of life's irritants. And it strikes me that when you are young and searching out partners in life, you don't think much about how it might be to spend senior years with someone. You assume that if you have a solid foundation, then you will in some fashion grow together. But what if you like peace and prefer mindful acceptance over a never ending spelling out of all that is wrong with your life? Shouldn't you be sure to find a partner who is like you in this regard?

Ed, for all that we do not share, is indeed very much like me in this regard. I swear, violent storms could knock down our house and tear up the farmette lands and we would get up the next morning, and start planning the rebuild of our next home, taking time to sit and watch swallows, because in this quiet activity we find joy.

And now comes evening dinner. Here, I have to smile at how many dinners I have eaten with these two friends!

I met them first when I started writing Ocean, so maybe 18 years ago. He blogged too and we somehow found each other through this shared hobby.

Ocean has done this for me: it has grown my pool of friends. Some live far (Australia!), some live closer, like these two. And most live somewhere in between (California, Michigan). Some were older when Ocean came along and some have died in the last year (lobsterman's wife Bex, intrepid France traveler Lee, beloved Cambridge artist Lily). But they were and are friends, as solid as can be. 

So here we are tonight, on their porch, reflecting back, looking forward (their kids join us and it is super cool to listen to their stories too) and I'm thinking -- each day brings many precious moments and this is one of them.

(All this and fabulous food too...)

Good night to you, dear reader, wherever you may be.

With love...