When my knees started whining this morning, after a couple of hours at the loom, I chided them for letting down the side, but did admit that it might be time to see what the kitchen had to offer for lunch, and them maybe find a shady spot and a new book.
I try to keep in mind the way Grandpa Sid (Charles' father) managed when he was with us in his late eighties, and emulate his way of life; busy during the day, but at a leisurely pace. Never hurried or distraught, and always aware of the energy short rest periods generated, he taught us all
the advantages of pacing oneself through life....
So I made myself a toasted chicken and cheese sandwich, had a very small nap, and then gathered a book and the camera and my phone in a basket, and went out into the back garden to find a cool corner.
I finished reading Julia Blackburn's 'biography' yesterday - "The Three of Us", astounded at the lack of stability in her childhood and surprised by the maturity, and the love and forgiveness that she achieves by the time the book ends. It kept me reading all afternoon until I closed it with a sigh, and laid it aside for Happy Hour, and a little musing about life and how different it is for all us.
Today I started to read "Habits of the House" by Fay Weldon - a Downton Abbey kind of book that doesn't require a great deal of concentration but so far is entertaining.
This morning I was back at the loom again, and so pleased with the way the left-over linen is weaving up into small guest towels, although I have to admit that there are a few lines running through the length of the warp that could be construed as decorative, but are, in reality, mistakes in threading.... I have probably another twenty inches of warp left to weave and then the happy experience of cutting off the warp, wet finishing the material and watching it morph from a stiff linen netting type of weave to a lovely soft huck pattern, the threads all relaxed and cosying up to one another.
And so the summer days go by, - I go to town when I absolutely have to, but my days begin and end in the garden in the cool of the morning and the quiet of the late evening. Often, if there is a particularly lovely sunset in the Chilcotin, our youngest son scans the sky with his Ipod and sends by Skype these beautiful Monet colours, - mauves and purples and roses and cream and lilac, bright golds and blue.
In the morning I can expect to see on Facebook the same sunset, beautifully photographed by our second son, and accompanied by wonderful tales of the Meadow where they live.
Warm summery days, and life is good....