I haven’t experienced much solitude since I returned from the cottage a month ago, at least not much long-term solitude. There’s the usual family and friends comings and goings, which I categorize as ‘the givens’, and then there was the Boston Bombing that generated a communal intensity that was neither silent, solitary nor simple.
Today, as I thought things were calming down, the put-and-take at the dump opened, and with it was my husbands joyful activity of ‘putting and taking’. He loves fixing things up and using them for a while. What he doesn’t keep he gives to our kids for their use or to sell at their neighborhood yard sale.
Thank goodness we have a old barn and garage where he works on and stores the stuff. But once in a while a little sitter sneaks it’s way into the house, cluttering my simplicity. It’s what spring is all about. And, not to worry, I can find enough solitude.
Today, as I thought things were calming down, the put-and-take at the dump opened, and with it was my husbands joyful activity of ‘putting and taking’. He loves fixing things up and using them for a while. What he doesn’t keep he gives to our kids for their use or to sell at their neighborhood yard sale.
Thank goodness we have a old barn and garage where he works on and stores the stuff. But once in a while a little sitter sneaks it’s way into the house, cluttering my simplicity. It’s what spring is all about. And, not to worry, I can find enough solitude.