I have had a glorious week luxuriating in beautiful, awesome, unstructured, unobligated, unpeopled Time, which is something I haven’t had since December.

I spent much of it in quiet fellowship with the birds, berries, bugs, and begonias.

Oh to be alone! To have time think my own thoughts. And time to think absolutely nothing at all.  2015-06-11 20.32.05And time to fill various vessels with flowers.

I’ve had time to study the secret lives of bees and to wonder why they have turned the cedar birdhouse into a makeshift hive. It’s pretty cute as far as hives go.  Maybe that’s why. A group of them hang out on the birdhouse’s front porch.  They ignore me completely as I stare and ask them questions.  They’re up to something.

I’ve had time to make the bed! Who knew how deeply satisfying making the bed could be?  I didn’t come from a home where people made the beds or where people made other people make the beds, so I didn’t discover the satisfaction of bed-making until just a few years ago. Rows of fluffy pillows and straight corners and the stuffed goat smiling down at me from atop his pillow perch – it’s all so tidy!  Happiness is a made bed — that’s what it’s come to.

I have had time to be consoled by the touch of lily leaves on my back, nourished by sun-warmed blackberries off the vine, enchanted by fluffy baby ducks, and lullabied by frogs.

I am beginning to feel human again.

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