the blue muse

Yesterday, a-perfect-weather-filled-with-sunshine-kind-of-day, I took a few hours off to ride to our camp with my husband so he could mow the lawn there. It’s always a nice break because there are windmills on the way, and we always stop for a dip-top on the way home, and I can’t work, or even check my email, once we’re there.

It’s so easy to forget how to relax.

There is always something that needs doing, even when it isn’t work, there is something around the house or in the garden that needs my attention. So I have to force myself to sit down every so often. To stop and do nothing. At least nothing but smell the roses. Because oh my, just now, they smell incredible.

This is one of my favorite garden years in a long time. It’s funny, even though I plant basically the same things every year, Mother Nature has her own ideas about what grows where and which plants flourish and when they bloom. So, I let her have her own way a little, and together, we’ve made a feast for the eyes.

For now. By August it will be a mess and past its prime and I won’t care because it will be hot hot hot and the season will be winding down.

So for now, I’m trying to simply enjoy the pretty,  stealing time when I can to revel in these perfect gypsy days, working late after dark to make up for it.

Winter is long and summer is short and that big blue bowl of sky always has something to tell me.

As long as I’m willing to listen.

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