The doors have been opened to flush out the heat of an oppressive afternoon, and it is definitely time to wind down. It is time for some tea, and snuggly pants, and my book. It is time to breathe out the fullness of a day of harvesting - firewood, food, knowledge, family. It is time for the evening schoolwork to begin for The Barracuda, once he is all washed up and ready for bed. It is time to be grateful for very packed days, and remember the smiles what passed quickly - or irritably - earlier.
The Barracuda will trade out Prince Caspian (a current personal book choice) for The Fellowship of the Ring (a current schoolbook) and spend his last hour of the evening knocking out the rest of another action packed chapter. Jules will click away at the computer watching goodness-knows-what on Netflix and 'trolin around eBay. The dog will flop down on the porch, and then flop down on the living room floor, and then back out on the porch.
Each of us retreat into our quiet spaces for a bit before Jules and I find ourselves folded up on the couches talking into the night. What once seemed like an impossible jumble of activities and endlessly busy, chaotic days has drifted almost effortlessly into a routine of bodies moving about in a loving dance of fading light.
With tomorrow's morning will come a Latin test, grammar work, and dishes. In the heat of the afternoon, laundry will dry and bread will rise. The neighbor's dog will come and visit like always, and the boy will get dirtier/stickier/sillier than I even thought he could, like always. But for now it is a time for crickets and frogs, stillness and stars.