Rain

The rain is falling; a relentless, pounding, ceaseless rain that hits the deck and the windows of this old snug farmhouse, and - if the wind is blowing from the East - sometimes seeps in between the old wooden casements. We're in the process, this summer, of re-roofing and re-siding, but for now the ancient, painted wood still keeps the worst of the weather at bay.

The sound soothes me; the rhythm lulls. I have thoughts jumbled together, past and present and future. Memory and illusion, reality and truth. It's all good, this kaleidoscope of life, turning and mixing, and creating patterns out of small things.

Tonight in the rain, random lines of poetry cross my mind:

"The moving finger writes, and having writ, moved on..."

"...the conjunction of the mind; and opposition of the stars."

"The face of all the world has changed, I think..."

"Once upon a midnight dreary, as I pondered weak and weary..."

Sad lines, hopeless ones for the most part, but I feel neither sad nor hopeless. Just inevitable. Wistful. Swept along in a current. At one with the rain.

Bohemian Warholism

Don't ask....

Cool though, isn't it?

Weekends aren't supposed to be like this

Ask anyone who knows me: weekends in my world are generally lazy. Some gardening, some baking, some household chores may be necessary, but my plan for most weekends involves leisurely mornings with a pot of coffee and late breakfast, and getting everything that needs to be done completed before 2pm so I can spend quality time with a book or some writing or some other hobby. This time of year, that often involves sangria on the veranda, which is truly an added bonus. I don't plan any regular kid activities for Saturday or Sunday because I know we won't make them. We even gave up horse riding because much as I loved cantering across a field, it took a good three hours out of every Saturday morning. Swimming, karate, scouts, sailing, soccer, ultimate frisbee, even grocery shopping and errands...all scheduled in our household between Monday and Thursday (which, even typing this, makes me realize why I am tired). There are occasional exceptions for soccer tournaments, etc and family activities such as camping, hiking, sailing across the bay are fun and not included here, but routine weekends at home are meant for relaxing.

Last weekend, however, was an aberration. Grace had back-to-back flying lessons and soccer practice, my in-laws came for a quick birthday lunch, after which I quickly whisked birthday boy to a friend's overnight camping expedition, and his sister to another sleepover. Sunday was a scout fundraising campaign for our trip to Alberta this summer (and for which I spent hours making soup and sandwiches on Saturday night), and driving Anna to Upper Canada Village to meet up with her friends. 

By the time Sunday night came, I was exhausted.

This weekend, thankfully, is back to normal. 

Drank coffee until 10, are out looking at Andrew's dream vehicle (more to come), and have no other planned activities for the next 36 hours.

Unless you count this...