Anything But Ordinary

It’s been a busy week.

Gerry has worked hard to put down mulch in our front perennial beds, which involved sorting weed from plant and disposing of the former first. The beds look great. I’ll share photos after more than just columbine is in bloom. The backyard is ready for serious work we’re planning to begin next week as we convert the space from dying grass to raised bed gardens.

I helped. A bit. I have spent the bulk of my time in the woman cave working behind the scenes for the InScribe Christian Writers’ Fellowship and Story Circle Network. It’s good work. Without boundaries, it can consume much of my time, which it did this week. All good.

I went to the library this afternoon, choosing four gardening books at the library and taking a longer way through the park back to my car. Just a quick detour because my books were heavy and we’re under a thunderstorm watch. Enough to conjure memories and whet my appetite for more of the same.

I sat on a bench and watched a squirrel in a patch of dandelions. I stood on a bridge and looked out over the serpentine creek, remembering swans that used to live there and the time one attacked my sister. I thought about how grateful I was to be sitting on a bench in a park instead of a conference room in an office building.

It’s a good life. I’m thankful for it.

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In other news, I picked the first radish from the garden this morning.

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And, in still other news, I published a new post on SubStack about the season of Ordinary Time. You can read it here.