Yesterday afternoon, The Peanut and I put together trellises for our garden, with a little help from Mr. ReddHedd. All of our sugar snap peas and snow peas have sprouted, and a trellis was desperately needed before they started crawling all over the garden with their clingy little tendrils.
Now? We’re good to grow vertical for the whole summer. Tomatoes, here we come.
While we were outside tying up the nylon netting onto the galvanized steel trellis frame, I flashed back to doing the same sort of thing with my granny and my parents through the years. The continuity is comfort in action.
I realized, in that moment, that my tension had eased back a little bit. That The Peanut and I were just in the moment. And it was so much fun.
Then I wondered, why don’t we do this more often?
Other than that, I’ve got nothing this morning. Seriously. Nada. Zip. Zilch.
My creative well is dry.
The page is bare, and I’ve got bupkis.
Found this gorgeous photo, and couldn’t wait to share it with you. But there has been such a long string of crapola this week, coupled with everything I’ve been doing around the house and…
Well, you know, you live this life, too.
We all do. We’re all running around like crazy people alla time, and that moment where you pause to breathe — for me, anyway — comes a few seconds before I turn off the light and conk out for the night.
Let’s talk about what we are doing to refill our own wells. Because lately? I’ve been feeling like the whole country could use a nice deep breath and something fun for a change. Pull up a chair…
PS — A bonus Yo Yo Ma and the Silk Road ensemble link: Arabian Waltz. Enjoy.