Seasons

All the anticipation for time off left me restless and agitated when those days actually arrived. I wanted to keep going at top speed- get those closets cleaned out, that deck repaired and painted, the doors and trim painted, and some dumpster projects transformed, like they do it on the blogs that make it look so easy.

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But wandering from clutter to laundry to to-do list left me frustrated, lethargic, and unmotivated.

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I found Brian in the yard. He was sitting on his "Ken bench", sipping a Moosehead, and listening to a complilation of tunes from Folk Fest 2010.

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It seemed like the right thing to do.

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As we sat, and listened, and looked; I noticed how ravishingly beautiful the yard was. How all that labour and busyness had blossomed into green, yellow, poppy, and daisy.

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Away from the lists and the internal dialogue, I thought of my one-time neighbour Ginny. Her children went to bed with sand between their toes and dandelion wreaths in their hair. Their clothes lay twisted and soiled, kicked in corners and under beds. They lived in swimwear with traces of ketchup on their faces. Outdoors, the table on the stone deck held their dinner dishes while the splash pool waited for tomorrow.

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Ginny would be watering perennials, and exchanging the outdoor dinner dishes for a potted begonia. While the evening sounds came alive she'd sip her amaretto on ice and chat with the neighbours over the fence.

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Summer was for summer.

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The rest would rest

for other seasons.