Tuesday, September 10, 2013


The morning schoolwork is done, and the evening work has yet to begin.  Tonight there will be novels to read and study guides to fill out, and I'll be creating PowerPoints for curriculum as Jules grades papers or gets all the administrative work for his classes done.  But not now.

Now, I'm pulling the blue elderberries off their stems into the dutch oven for this winter's cold syrup, and just breathing in the silence.  The phone hasn't rung all morning and the boys have gone fishing, so I am left with the soft breeze blowing through the open doors of the house. The soft plink - plink, the low metronome of the dogs panting, and the occasional thump of a happy tail hitting the floor as they are splayed out in the middle of the living room, the trees are rustling, the clothes on the line are flapping about, and all the muffled sounds remind me of just how alive the quiet can be.

 No one thought to tell the weather it has become September, and we're not telling either.  

We are in the blissful lull of late summer days.

1 thoughts:

Mel said...

Oh, I envy you the quiet. I just about freaked out this weekend from all the noise--trains, cars, dogs, non-stop kid chatter.... You would think living in Montana would mean quiet, but not at all. I really should be living out in the woods somewhere. So glad you had such a lovely afternoon.

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