I had a hell of a week last week. It's one of those periods that just comes with my job – it's nothing new but it's starting to get old. As I consider how much longer I want to have weeks like last week, I'm gearing up for another one.
If I'm questioning how much longer I want to entertain stress and long days in those five middle days in a week, I'm not questioning my ability to counter those kinds of days with what I need. I told a friend this morning: "that drizzly day is calling me." I went out there and walked. I smelled the layers of leaves fallen in a park. I admired the mist hanging about the lake and the city. I bought food, and I cooked meals for the looming week. I listened to CBC radio. My home smells of roasted squash and cinnamon and tomatoes and sage. I did laundry and cleaned my kitchen.
Mostly I breathed today. I thought my neighbourhood, which is burgeoning with busyness all summer long, seemed a little lonely in late October. In a good way. Maybe a place is like a person – and a break from everyone and everything does it good once in awhile.
beautiful things found in the process of a quiet, sun-filled weekend: