Hello, dear friends. Come in, there’s tea on.
Monday
I open my laptop and brace myself for a mountain of unread emails. It’s not too bad. Fall semester is creeping closer, and I’m quietly grateful I got ahead of the work before we left.
I take a late lunch and head to the park with Henry. We practice his loose-leash walking and building his confidence. He jumps up onto the stone wall by the playground and prances along it. I have a feeling he thinks he’s one of the kids.
When I get home, I make fruit scones. Once they’re out of the oven, I put them on the cooling rack and promise myself I’ll wait until they’ve cooled before having one.
It takes exactly two minutes to break that promise.
I slather one with strawberry jam.
Tuesday
A beautifully ordinary Tuesday. An early morning walk. I see the family of deer again. The babies look like they’re getting bigger. I know the feeling.
Wednesday
Do you ever feel you are in the midst of a full moon cycle before you know that you’re in one? That’s how I have been feeling lately. Powerful forces are colliding, and it’s jostling me back and forth. I have a cosmic headache.
Out to dinner with a friend, I order fries with mayo. It takes me back to the time Ger and I were in Amsterdam on our honeymoon. We ordered patatje speciaal (fries and mayonnaise) from an open-air market.
I think this was just before I wrecked the canal boat on the Prinsengracht.
Thursday
I put my top back on after my mammogram and decide to treat myself to a latte before going back to work. I have my book with me and read a few pages exploring the psychological meaning behind the story of Vasalisa and Baba Yaga, the wild woman.
To drown out the pop music, I put on my headphones and get lost in the sound of Celtic fiddle music from the Scottish Highlands.
Somehow, I feel powerful. Connected to my inner Baba Yaga. Connected to this Celtic version of myself.
Friday
My body often knows the seasons are changing before the calendar says so.
I wake up and the light is different. I’m tired. I don’t have the same drive to get up and work out that I did a few weeks ago.
A little voice in my head says, It’s time to rest. Go slow. Enjoy the stillness of the morning.
Maybe I should listen.
Saturday
I wake up and decide that it’s officially autumn, so I put my fall wreath on the door. After lazing around watching the final two episodes of Grantchester, I convince myself to get outside and finish the remaining two raised beds.
With my wheelbarrow already loaded with tools, I cart it outside, ready for the task. It goes without a hitch, except for getting a screw stuck in one of the corner pieces. With a little bit of bashing, it comes out.
I can’t put the beds into place yet. I have to wait until the first frost. It’s impossible to move the pumpkin vines. They are practically attached to the ground.
While so many of the flowers are starting to turn, the Japanese anemones know it’s their time to shine. From the flower bud to the flower itself, what’s not to love?
Sunday
The bookbag is packed, the Chromebook is charged, and I have enough food to feed a small army when my teenager comes home hungry from school.
Physically, we are ready. Emotionally, we are not.
I make vegetable soup and toasted sandwiches on imported Irish bread, because apparently you can’t find good bread in the States.
Something feels off today. I can’t put my finger on it.
Until our next cup of tea,
Abby