Sitting…on the couch in the living room.
Drinking…an after supper cup of Earl Grey tea and eating chocolate sandwich cookies.
Longing…for a little summer weather. We’re still back in April, temperature-wise, and it’s a little depressing. Our summer is so short; we can’t afford lose any of it.
Waiting…for it to warm up a bit before I plant seedlings in the garden.
Hoping…the Twins keep winning.
Enjoying…our long daylight hours. They almost make up for the short days in the middle of winter. (Want to know what the late night light is like? Here’s a photo taken two weeks ago at 11 pm.)
Planning…to take it easy this summer. No trips, no outdoor painting projects. I’m going to garden, enjoy my grandbabies, read, take long walks and see what else I feel like doing. The past year was a busy and sometimes difficult one, with several trips, one death, two births, three dental surgeries (two more yet to come), and one month-long illness. I’ve decided I need a bit of break. Besides, babies are more important than trips and painting projects, right?
Remembering…summers past:
- the summer my oldest daughter was a baby and my mother bought her a kiddie pool.
- the summer my oldest son, then four, spent his days trying to catch grasshoppers in the bush behind the house. I don’t think he ever caught one. He says he caught one, but if he did, he didn’t get back to the house with it.
- the summer my oldest daughter was 6, and she brought home a jar of tadpoles from Paddy’s Pond so she could watch them turn into frogs. And they were turning into frogs until her younger brother reached up onto the counter to pull the jar over so he could peek at them, spilling jar, water, and tadpoles all over the floor.
- the summer my youngest daughter’s best friend ended up in our backyard hanging from the monkey bars by the seat of her pants while we were all inside eating our supper. That’s the summer the same friend told me she had a new trick to show me and before I could react, jumped on the business end of a rake. You know how that ended. I was, after this, happy she wasn’t my daughter, but only my daughter’s friend.
Telling…these stories to youngest son as I write them. He’s not heard them before. He’s missed out on the family stories, I think, by not having his father around.
Thanking…God for memories, stories, children, summer, pond life. Thanking him for his care through happy and sad, hectic and quiet, life and death.
Copying...Lisa.