In a continued effort to nurse myself back to cheeriness, I encouraged my very understanding other half to take the children off for a large chunk of Sunday. I'm prone to a little panic whenever I get a rare couple of hours 'off''. The feeling that I should be getting lots done can make me anxious. There are always any number of jobs to be done and my house could always do with some attention in the cleaning department (ahem). This time however, I decided to acknowledge my exhaustion and just give in to it.
I pootled about the allotment and marvelled at how the slugs had reduced almost everything I'd planted to nothing. There was also some quiet rejoicing that some of my potatoes have not only survived but seem to be thriving...at least we may have one harvest this year.
I stood and watched the action down at the canal. It's all happening, as you can see...
Then I walked home, so slowly that it may even have looked as if I wasn't moving at all. Slow walking is not a luxury many of us can afford and I took full advantage; stopping at every bloom and view along the way. There was much humble and overlooked beauty to be found...
Those little wild-flowers of herb Robert, cow parsley and forget-me-nots just sing of summer. All my grand plans slipped away, I was lost with the day.
I feel so grateful for the quiet of that day, so thankful for the warmth of the sun and the gentle thrum of growth.
It really is the little things isn't it?