It’s 73 and sunny where I’m sitting today.
There’s been a cloud cover as of late – and so these last few days of pure blue heavens, warm dry temps, and sweet soft breezes has been bliss.
All of my kind readers in the North are gagging, I am sure.
I feel for you, friends.
I’m hearing your complaints about all those freezing and frigid temps you’re getting, and I’m elated that I have escaped.
The cold did not treat me well when I was there.
I never did get used to it.
Sun and warmth are woven into the very fibers of my being, I suppose.
If I ever actually move to England…. Jesus will have to sustain my equatorial heart.
The oldest and I have been outside for much of the afternoon – soaking in every bit of sunshine the sky offers us.
My man-child has swept pine needles into a giant pile leaning up against our yard’s back border.
He has made a makeshift canopy for me to write underneath – with an old large umbrella and rocking chairs.
Right now, he’s making a sprinkler system for his experiential garden plot. He just turned it on and the thing actually works.
The youngest two are having their blessed nap.
The girl has dance tonight – and I’ve learned that the evening runs smooth when she has had some extra shut-eye.
And Mama here is popping in for a post yet again this week. Three days and going strong now.
All because I ran across a quote this past weekend that hit me where I needed it…
If you want to be a writer, you have to write everyday…you don’t go to a well once but daily.” – Walter Mosely
So I have been trying to make an extra keen effort to visit the watering hole.
Whether it makes me a writer or not…it certainly satisfies.
I’m looking out onto the sea, as I type this.
A chalky one.
The blondes have drawn all sorts of corals and water creatures on our back porch – and all over our house, and a good portion of our fence.
It’s a rainbow of seaside out here.
The calm of this moment is in deep contrast to the angry chaos that ensued earlier today – with Mama getting red in the face over forgotten chores and dramatic whinyness.
I’m thankful for my composed moment here – where the air is filled with dove song, and mower engine, and boy mischief.
I’m off to sweat a bit.
How anyone can get a taste of the sun without using it for aerobics is beyond me.
May your afternoon surprise you with blips of joy and sunshine, friends.
Warm embraces to you all.
