Last night we went to a friends house and watched a fire from their back yard. It was slightly surreal to swim around as the hills around us burst into flames and smoke. Thank you, firefighters, for fighting to keep us safe.
Now my counter is piled with tomatoes and nectarines and zucchini, the beloved squash that we are always in danger of being sick of by the end of July. The dog is trying to recover from a week at the farm. She would usually be interested in Nolan’s lunch sitting there so nicely on the table but now she is too exhausted to eat. Nolan has run off with Tobin to play hide and seek/pillow throw. Shel is at Zoo Camp and Q is playing with a friend.
I am drinking a Dr Pepper (even though I shouldn’t) and trying to plan for the school year.
I have decided this is the month for Matisse, mostly because ayearofcreativehabits.com told me so. I am trying to be more responsible with my art and I hope to play along and do something Matisse-y. Meanwhile I should dig a little deeper for lesson planning, which is why I have a pencil stuck in my hair and my planner on the couch. Dear me, I never thought I’d be a person with a planner. As I get older I respect structure more, and seek it out, which is an ironic statement considering the state of my kitchen. But the thing about structure is it doesn’t come naturally, and so I’ll clear off the counters and two minutes later we will be battling a toy truck infestation or a milk spill or a ridiculous amount of perler beads all over the place. I used to hate that part of housework, the part where it only lasts for two minutes. I am realizing that the part where I clean and plan and sort and organize is really only good because it gets us ready for the next glorious messy thing.
Summer is almost over, and I am sorting and organizing for a new season. It doesn’t sound exciting and it’s really hard to write about, but that’s only because it’s a hidden treasure that gets forgotten in the seams. Transition can be as lovely as the actual event, and so I wander into August, transitioning to school and autumn and maybe more soup. I write it down, because when you really look at it, it’s just as exciting as finding a gold dollar between the couch cushions.