It's a good life
This is my swing chair - a Hawaiian design that allows maximum air-flow and superb hang-time. I have it slung close to the ground because I do not hav total reliance on the dead branch it's hanging from. But oh, the bliss of sitting in the hot air and gently swinging in the breeze, sipping some ice water, and reading something light - or maybe reading nothing. Just sitting and swinging while the brain slips into neutral and time becomes irrelevant. I love, love, love my swing chair! I'm headed there shortly.
But in the meantime, it has been a lovely day. DH and I went out for breakfast as usual. I had the fruit plate and it was a symphony of ripe sweetness! Then he mowed the lawn, and I took off for the monthly meeting of the Portland Purls. Usually knitting meets at Chez Matthews, but this time, TW very graciously offered to hostess. Her home is vintage and gracious and decorated with such elegance and charm. And in her front yard is a superb copper beech tree. I tried to get photos, but it's so big that by the time I was far enough away to photograph it, there were other houses in the way. The tips of the branches sweep the ground this year. There is one branch across the walk up to the house that has untill this spring, been just about finger-tip high for me if I stand on my toes and stretch. Today, the burden of leaves is so abundant that that particular branch skims my head as I walk beneath it. These bowing branches make a shady, sun-dappled room of the front yard. It's a really neat feel, and my inner five-year-old was so delighted that I stood on the walk cooing with glee till TW opened the front door and invited me in.
TW is such a magnificent hostess. She got out the crystal goblets for our iced tea. She served warm apple crisp and cherry scones. We talked about religion and spirituality and raising kids. MJ was remarking on the trials of 15 year old boys. I reminded her, "If you shoot him, you gotta eat him. That's what my dad used to tell my older brothers when they wanted to shoot crows or skunks or other vermin." I was helping DB with a skeing of Lorna's Laces laceweight that had been assaulted by two kittens. We made headway, but two hours of tender unraveling was not enough to fix it.
And now, I have a scarf, a sweater, and an un-ending series of baby sokies on the needles, and I'm going to go hang in my swing chair and meditate on the zen of awareness. As has been said, Be Here Now.