It begins.
My attitude has been so different in the mornings now that the sun is making an appearance before I leave for work. My winding and hilly drive out of the cove lulls me into driving autonomy most days but in the spring, I notice the tiny jumping frogs leaping into my path, dodge baby bunnies hopping along the shoulder, stop to talk to the fox who says “I’m just passing through, don’t mind me.” At least, that what his eyes are saying as he sizes me up from the hill above.
The cove welcomes me home in the afternoon with a slight breeze, birds chirping. As I pull up our sloped driveway Thom is usually waiting for me, arms crossed with a goofy smile and a glass of something cold to drink. He’s also just taken care of my plants and succulents. There’s always a quick peck, a hug, and a back rub.
It’s cool enough now, in the evenings, to have dinner out on the deck so I do most nights. I’ve also been crafting and repotting my succulents there so my outdoor table is covered in potting soil and tools. I’ve been meaning to buy a pretty outdoor tablecloth to brighten it up out there but it’s pointless until I’m done buying and repotting plants. I don’t think I’ll ever be done. It’s addictive and fun.
At bed time I turn off the lights and sit in front of the bedroom window. The cross breeze that flows through the house is refreshing and makes our tiny cottage smell fresh. Sometimes I can hear the lake. Fireflies made their appearance over the last week and there’s a new owl behind the house. He has an interesting trill before he “whos.” I tried imitating him to Thom last night and ended up in giggles because I can’t roll my Rs.
Mostly I drift off to sleep with the singing of frogs and crickets serenading me but lately I haven’t slept much. I leave my warm bed for the craft room and work on random projects for a while until my eyes droop and sleep finally takes over. The cottage is quiet and the cove finally rests.
And so do I.
