Another month has passed again. And silence here reigns.
Today I read an article about “unpluggers.” Not a revolutionary or new concept by any means, but a reminder to myself. A reminder that when I stole away to the bedroom today at 11 o’clock (aka ignoring the kids) with a fragrant mug of tea in hand, I felt like I was luxuriating in a time nearly lost. At least around here on most days.
We’ve got a small stack of magazines that outgrows its tidy spot by the desk within two months simply because we do more of our reading online these days. But, truly, curling up away from the computer with one of these gems provides a sense of being home and rest unlike staring at the screen in a quiet house or updating a blog when everyone’s asleep. Which I guess explains why I haven’t been doing those two things much lately. Nope. Not “unplugged” per se. But less “plugged in” at the moment.
And life is good here. The rain is coming down by the bucket here in Northern California this month. Something like ten times more rain than last year’s monthly totals. And with all that rain and wind and hail, we’ve been circling the house as if we’re a cuckoo clock in rotation–kids playing, mother following the trail of debris left behind, broom in hand. Occasionally at peace. Other times frustrated. Usually eager to get to the next thing on my magic list of to do’s.
Sometimes I think when I stop writing here I actually turn off that blogging voice in my mind. I haven’t been hearing it lately. The one that has side conversations while making a recipe or are in thought–sketching out the beginnings of a new post in more detail than I could write it down if I did have the pen and paper in hand. And so lately, with this blog voice barely whispering to me, I’ve been living without writing, knowing that although the window of time is not presenting itself right now, it’s time may still come again.
Heck, when I logged in here I saw my note to self about Little House posts and nearly keeled over. It already seems to long ago. Maybe I’ll still get around to it though. Maybe.
But until then, I hope your holidays have been warm, joyful and full of love. That life feels contentedly full without spilling everywhere (because the spilling part brings out the stress in me). I hope you’ve remembered to water your Christmas tree if you have one (because we forgot on the third day and are paying the price with heaps of needles everywhere!). And that New Years, whenever you celebrate it, provides a sense of renewal that it always brings me, with or without pre-determined resolutions.
Cheers! And please, if you’ve stopped in to read, leave me a comment of any sort. I’m wondering if anyone’s reading anymore. Thanks!