Floating and Fabulous

It is such a lovely, lovely day. I have some unexpected hours free and as much as I’d like to feel inspired just now, I don’t feel as if I have a creative bone in my body. Sometimes I feel like that’s the way it all works out best. With no intention, no striving, no wondering about what creation is, or who I am, or what I ought to do. Letting it all come as it comes. Or not even letting. Not even a single feeling of allowance. Floating on the wind.

I’m in the cabin. Henry runs for it, and me, every afternoon when he comes in from school. Yesterday we had a Tootsie Roll while we sat on the stoop and agreed it was a wonderful thing to sit on a cabin stoop and eat a Tootsie Roll. He’s worn shorts the last week and Grandpa decided we needed a path through the woods considering his little legs. He got the lawn mower out here and made one. Then Ian came for a talk and Henry cried at being kept away.

How often I forget what “the little children” are actually like. They’re so easily disappointed…and not always easily distracted…especially from routine.

And a Tootsie Roll is a fabulous treat.