Pockets

Some unexpectedly busy days over the past week or so, now I’m hungry for quiet time. Not yet. Not just yet. But soon.

Pockets of time carved out leave me grateful for quiet moments, but needing deeper pockets in which to roll around.  I practice appreciating what is rather than what could be.

My backyard garden is planted. I’ve started tossing seeds in the ground at my community garden plot and delight in the green already appearing. I will sow more rows before this week is over.

In stolen moments, I splash watercolour paint on paper, playing and practicing. This is a creative pursuit that calls for a measure of both discipline and freedom—a fine balance.

I fulfill commitments, cross things off lists, tick boxes, organize papers, tidy areas in my woman cave, and never quite get everything accomplished I intend.

I start a writing group! Finally! I always intended to have another group after we retired and returned to Canada but never got to it. Circumstances aligned and it happened almost effortlessly, with a cross section of women, both local and afar (thanks to the wonder of technology), including some dear ones who were part of the group in Washington!

Days unfold, some with surprises, others with work to be done. Lilacs are in bloom, the garden is waking up, and birds aplenty entertain in the backyard. It is spring. Despite the noise of current events, there is peace in the pockets of simple things.