I’m sitting here at the end of our very full weekend, quite worn out and about ready to collapse, but never the less content. It was a long and busy one, but a good one. I’m just here to share one little quiet moment of peace in it all, before I go and put myself to bed.
Fifteen perfect, commitment free minutes, with everyone, big and small, playing happily and the weather turned slightly crisp and autumnal, the very sort of conditions that speak most to my soul. I’m sitting on the darkly colored stone step outside the door. The one that holds the heat of the sun in a way that makes you feel all cozy and drowsy and content. A mug of coffee, such a rare treat! One that I’ll pay for later, with a racing heart and shaking hands, but I’ve forgotten that for now. It has it’s own kind of aromatherapy, that speaks of lazy Sunday mornings and days long past. There are flowers about with a soundtrack of birdsong, the wind rustling through the trees and children’s laughter. I have yarn near by, but I don’t do more then rearrange it. It’s good to have it resting by my feet though, it’s warm and cozy like the step, but full of love and promise as well. It’s the book I long to sift through and relish; simple and sweet and known nearly by heart, comforting to it’s core and nourishing in it’s very repetition. Fifteen sacred minutes, with everything falling into place.