The sun shone a few days ago. It was noteworthy because it’s been gray so we packed up our cameras, grabbed some coffee, and went for a drive. It was glorious. We talked, looked, and didn’t click the shutters on our cameras once. No matter. The sunlight did what it does so well. It revived us.
This morning I’m listening to the scraping of our neighbour’s shovel on his driveway confirming that what I suspected when I peeked out the window a couple of hours ago is true. Enough snow fell overnight to warrant shoveling. Gerry will be thrilled (tongue planted firmly in cheek).
These days are short and dark. Quiet. Well, except when I venture out into the madness which we did earlier this week when we went to Costco.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said to Gerry, who was willing to browse.
I lost tolerance for shopping in crowds years ago. The gift of being retired means I no longer have to—except in December, when I do my level best to avoid it.
I’ve been at the library, instead. Writing, editing, and getting a parking ticket because I stayed past the time I had paid for. It’s been delicious (the writing, not the ticket).
Other than that, I’ve been munching on mandarin oranges and sipping cups of nettle infusion to assist with regaining my get-up-and-go which has not returned since I had surgery.
I’ve been drafting a project plan too. A carryover from my career days, there’s nothing like a solid project plan to organize my thoughts. There’s much to consider as I prayerfully think about next steps for my new book. Writing it down helps.
And so December trundles on as we near the solstice, Christmas, and the end of the year. I pray you’re finding big pockets of peace in the midst of it all.
Your thoughtful words and sunshine-y photo are very soothing. Here, we are mired in grey skies, days of heavy rain and flooding and the muddy aftermath of a very divisive election. I take comfort from the thoughts of pockets of peace.