Bun Kind of Day (14/60)

Here's my view this morning . . . after I cleaned out the garage, mowed the lawn, chatted with my sister and did five loads of laundry. I lay on the hammock and stared up at these leaves full of maple pods with the sun streaming through the green leaves, making me think of summers as a child. I remember reaching up and pulling down the seed pods and carefully braking open the thick, sticky pod top and sticking them on my nose, my ears, and on my fingers.

I remember making dandelion chains for my hair and wrists and finding tiny buttercups and holding them under our chins to see if we loved butter. I remember playing ring around the rosy over and over again and running as fast as I could everywhere I went just because I could.

I lay there, on the hammock, and let memories of my childhood wash over me and soak into my bones. Everything relaxed; my body, my mind, my spirit.

How have I lost that ability to just be so present as I did as a child? How do I get it back?

I think, as with everything I'm thinking lately, it's slowing down. It's choosing to lay on the hammock in the middle of the day instead of doing the thousand and one things that are demanding our attention.

It's letting your mind wander where ever it wants instead of making it plan out the future and solve all the concerns of everyone around me.

This was my 20 minutes today. Best. 20. Minutes. Of. My. day.

The rest of the day . . . it was . . . meh.

It was a bun kind of day . . . lots of cleaning and cooking . . . and gardening with Piper . . .

Bun . . .

The Gardening . . . collecting tomatoes for our salad . . .

Overgrown, wild garden

And the produce . . . we collected.

But I'm going to bed today, still feeling that sway of the hammock, that calm and the warm sunshine and the ease of just letting my mind wander and flit here and there without agenda or purpose. Just being. And it's made my whole day, despite it's meh-ness and all the daily routines, seem to flow . . . not speed by, or feel frantic, but flow by easily and calmly.

If this is what 20 minutes does . . . I'm IN!

I called my sisters and hugged everyone at LEAST three times. Celia was super dodgy, so only one good hug. Tomorrow I'll be better.

And no phone calls to the colleges, but I made caramel apples to bring to new neighbors and spent time with the children. I'm calling today a success.

Good night, friends. I hope you all enjoy that rare and mysterious and so blessed wonderful thing of a good night's sleep.

Comments

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