Summer Sunday Afternoon

In some ways, weekends are no different than weekdays when one is retired.  But there is always a sense of these two days being different from the other five.  Generally, I prefer the routine of the weekdays; it is hard for me to switch gears just because it's "the weekend."  Am I alone in this?  If nothing else, I have learned to forgive myself on the weekends.  If I don't accomplish what I set out to do, I remind myself, "Hey, it's the weekend.  Relax."  Interesting that a friend posted a Facebook meme today that said, "Relax.  Nothing is under control."  Oh, I want to tattoo that on my forehead!  No, wait.  Then I'd never see it.  And it would be backwards in the mirror.  Let me tattoo it on my forearm instead.

But let's face it: I'm not going to tattoo anything anywhere.

Back to the love here.  I spent several hours this morning on household chores, then treated myself to a top-down drive over the mountain on this beautiful first day of summer.  (Or is it the second?)  It was still mid-afternoon when I got home, so I settled myself on the front porch with a book I've been in love with (an old Alice Hoffman; she never disappoints).  At one point, I looked up from the book to observe my surroundings . . . and I fell in love.  What is missing from the photo I am about to post is the sound of the birds.  So please try to imagine them when you look at the photo.  (Just ignore the noise of the dirt bikes in the woods.)

As you can see, I am nearing the end of the novel.  You will have to forgive the brevity of this post, as I am compelled to return to my front porch to finish both the novel and the glass of wine.  Love is demanding in that way.

Happy Summer!