Tomorrow the madness begins in earnest. The cardboard boxes filling up the rooms, piles of paper, strangers in the house. Everything in a parcel, unhelpful labels on packed boxes, no room to move. In two days it will be over, loaded onto the truck, on the way to elsewhere.
Last night, home from my trip across five states, I found three zuchini and a tomato finally ready on the vine. A small harvest: tomorrow's dinner, with salt and pepper. A simple impulse in the midst of disorder. The mystery vine trails across the stone path, more tomatoes grow on the vines, absorbing the sun and heat. More profusion. The urge to grow amazes me.
The herbs fill out their pots. A moveable garden, to adorn the small house on the end of the street which will soon be, however temporarily, home.
The work awaits, the writing must wait, at least for now, on the blog. I'll be back, in a week or two after re-assembling our home. I'm pleased to know, however, that you'll be here online, when I return. Some things don't have to be uprooted. For this I'm grateful.