Enjoying the passage of time...

I have spent a bit too much time around the house today, some of it ordinary housework and a bit too much on the computer. I have to miss my Wednesday knitting group, as I'm waiting for a UPS delivery. Feeling antsy and restless, it seemed a good time to go for a walk, reminding myself that this might be the last REALLY nice day before the weather changes. We took the boat out of the river last night and I tend to feel melancholy with such obvious reminders that winter is coming next.

First I was greeted by an entire flock of wild turkeys right in the front yard. Our Siamese, Sushi, began to walk along with Munchie and I, but he's mostly an indoor cat and got spooked by the yearling alpacas who tried to look all tough when he went by their fence. The leaves were literally raining down as we strolled along the river trail, a warm breeze enveloping us. A floating log was lined with turtles sunning themselves, and I wondered what they will do when the cold weather arrives in a few days. I actually found myself humming the tune of James Taylor's, "The Secret of Life is Enjoying the Passage of Time."

I sat on a log with the intention of meditating (Eckhart Tolle-style) for a few minutes, but Munchie kept jumping on an adjoining log saying "Look at Me," and I was easily distracted by him and all of the captivating scenes literally at my feet (tiny wildflowers sticking out of holes in the log, colorful leaves, insects). As I walked on, the horses came alongside the fence to greet me. I trotted to see if they'd trot as well, and they joyfully played along, then cantered to the other end of the field as if to remind me that they are far faster than I.

I came in and was drawn back to the computer, asking myself why I want to blog when I have so many other things requiring my time. I never kept a journal or diary for more than a few days here and there when I was younger, and regret it. The good, the bad, the ugly and the ordinary... as an avid reader I wish I had memoirs from my grandparent's lives, especially to see how they got by during the tumultuous Great Depression, and how their 12 surviving children grew up so happy with so little. I also wish I had recorded the first few years of our marriage living in the old cabin, the excitement of Robert's arrival in our home and the fun of watching him grow up, the long, emotional journey we made to adopt Mirian from Peru and the ups and downs of her adjustment. It's hard to tell from my scant comments if many people read what I write, but that's okay. I have a humble record here, a few words of my own passage of time and seasons... and I think I just may stick with it this time.

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