Sunday stillness

It's mid-morning when I step out the backdoor in my bathrobe to check the temperature, then come back inside to get dressed. This morning I choose to wear summer clothes, shorts and a tank top, knowing that the privacy fence on my patio will shield my neighbors' view of this unbecoming outfit. I'm too old to wear clothes like this, but I'm craving sunshine on my skin.

Outside minutes later, accompanied by the dogs, a new book, my camera (just in case), an ice cold soft drink, and cheese and crackers wrapped in a napkin, I lean back in one chair and prop my feet on another. I'm simultaneously warmed by the sun and cooled by a stiff breeze. Both feel wonderful. I make a mental note of the fact that I'm clearly not ready for cold weather.

It's quiet this morning except for the cawing of crows, the pinging of falling acorns, and the scraping of dried leaves against concrete. The latter sound is courtesy of the breeze that swirls those leaves in tight, playful circles.

A neighbor has bed linens hanging on a clothesline I never knew was there. The sight of her white sheets blowing in the wind fills my head with the fresh scent of sun-dried bedding I remember from childhood. I wonder if she'd mind if I walked over and sniffed her sheets.

Lucy and Oliver are here with my daughter Kim. Kim's in the shop making glass beads, Oliver and Levi are playing together, and Lucy is sticking close to Butch, the only male dog who isn't too boisterous for her tastes. The easy camaraderie between the animals gives me a sense of peace.

The past few days have been busy ones. There hasn't been much time for writing or reading, for watching TV, or for doing the daily crossword puzzle, which I've missed  every day but one. The usual chores of cleaning house, grocery shopping, paying bills, etc., have occupied half my time, and the rest of it has gone to unusual events that are worthy of individual blog posts:

• Welcoming a special houseguest;
• Trying to keep a limping dog from jumping off the sofa;
• Attempting a new skill; 
• Remaining calm in a stalled check-out line; and
• Practicing a new creative outlet.

I'll write about all those things in the coming days. In the meantime, I'm happy to have a quiet, low-key day today, pleased to have time to spend with you here at Velvet Sacks, and glad to have squeezed in a few minutes throughout the week to take a few photographs:

Tiny flowers dwarfed by blades of grass.

Lucy: "Don't point that thing at me!" 

Trees with their heads in the clouds.

The first red leaves in our neighborhood.

Peeping lizard.

Full beaver moon, a/k/a frosty moon

Sunlit and splendid.

Town cryer, town crower.