Saturday. Quiet. No alarm clock. No meetings. How long since I've had a day open up before me like this?
We have a yardwork day planned, and the weather is perfect for it. The forecast predicted cloudy with a 20% chance of rain; but at this point, mid-morning, it's clear with a slight breeze and a temperature just shy of seventy degrees.
The desk in my study is piled high with things demanding my attention, but I'm ignoring them for the time being. The prospect of spending some hours in this beautiful weather doing something physical and productive outside is extremely appealing. It's been months since we actually had a weekend at home to tend to some of this. While the wall was being replaced, all of the deck furniture got piled up in a corner, so that all has to be washed down and put back in place. The camellia bushes and the ivy in the courtyard have run riot, so we'll trim all of that. The courtyard has a wonderful sort of New Orleans feel to it when it's nicely arranged. And this time of year is perfect for sitting out on the deck to watch the sunset.
I've never had much interest in being a homeowner. I was perfectly content to rent for the twenty years from the time I left Elm Street to the time I moved into Lynn's basement at Ivy Hills. Sandy and I never even talked about buying a house, and when she and I split up, the thought never occurred to me. So even though we share the mortgage on this place, I think of it as Lynn's house and generally defer to her in all matters of design & renovation. Which is not to say that I don't love it. As I sit here, watching the finches at the birdfeeder outside my window, I am astonished and tremendously grateful that the path of my life has taken me here.