now I'm sitting, smelling summer burn through the fall
And fall it is now, even though this week has been full of mostly Pittsburgh summer weather. I challenge myself to take time to take stock, give thanks, and find balance.
My joys this summer have been full of the wonders of rediscovering various ways of how to enjoy both myself and other people. I've gardened and cooked. I've run and climbed. I've visited and had visitors. I sadly got no apples this year, but plenty of tomatoes instead. I have the internet in my pocket and I'm not afraid to use it. I've done a lot of awesome things, and I'm not at all done yet.
The boys are back in school, and I'm happy with the schedule that it gives us. I'm working early hours and taking the bus to and from campus, which I'm finding I like a lot. This may mean that even in the dark of winter I'll still be outside for a short amount of daylight. mj2q is off on business, so life has been on the all parenting all the time channel lately. I'm rather quietly proud of myself that I've managed over a week so far, with attempting to stay on top of school, soccer, teacher conferences, soccer, homework, and soccer, and still managing to occasionally cook dinner, throw parties, see friends, and not kill anybody.
I'm very aware of the diminishing sunlight from the summer. The days are at a precarious balance now - I still wake up with the morning sun, but it is only dim light these days. The sun goes down about as we are starting to settle in for the evening, but every day cuts off more minutes that should be used playing outside. Every summer I spend these last six months recharging my internal solar powered batteries, and hope that I have stored enough to last me through the next six, when I will wake up in darkness and fight against the cold.
And so as usual, I watch the sunset with a feeling of urgency, of needing to race the days to get in everything I want, see everybody I want to see, and still maintain myself in the way that I need. And as usual in this month, I feel I have not enough time, but I know that as cycles around the sun go, this is just another, and things will slow in time, at which point I will probably ache for them to start moving again.
My joys this summer have been full of the wonders of rediscovering various ways of how to enjoy both myself and other people. I've gardened and cooked. I've run and climbed. I've visited and had visitors. I sadly got no apples this year, but plenty of tomatoes instead. I have the internet in my pocket and I'm not afraid to use it. I've done a lot of awesome things, and I'm not at all done yet.
The boys are back in school, and I'm happy with the schedule that it gives us. I'm working early hours and taking the bus to and from campus, which I'm finding I like a lot. This may mean that even in the dark of winter I'll still be outside for a short amount of daylight. mj2q is off on business, so life has been on the all parenting all the time channel lately. I'm rather quietly proud of myself that I've managed over a week so far, with attempting to stay on top of school, soccer, teacher conferences, soccer, homework, and soccer, and still managing to occasionally cook dinner, throw parties, see friends, and not kill anybody.
I'm very aware of the diminishing sunlight from the summer. The days are at a precarious balance now - I still wake up with the morning sun, but it is only dim light these days. The sun goes down about as we are starting to settle in for the evening, but every day cuts off more minutes that should be used playing outside. Every summer I spend these last six months recharging my internal solar powered batteries, and hope that I have stored enough to last me through the next six, when I will wake up in darkness and fight against the cold.
And so as usual, I watch the sunset with a feeling of urgency, of needing to race the days to get in everything I want, see everybody I want to see, and still maintain myself in the way that I need. And as usual in this month, I feel I have not enough time, but I know that as cycles around the sun go, this is just another, and things will slow in time, at which point I will probably ache for them to start moving again.