“…to be led calmly down the stream of time
to the ocean of futurity, which has no boundaries.”
~Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Paul & Virginia, 1849 ~

This past week I felt a lot and wanted to share a lot with my friends, my children, the world around me. Eight evenings, three friends, two children (and also their friends), one love, a rabbit, a dog, blossoming freckles, the sky, sea, rainy summer mornings and homemade Irish oatmeal, hundreds of seabirds swooping past, laying on our backs staring up into the warm languid summer sky.

I unplugged myself from the internet this week preparing meals in the slowness of the everyday, taking long meandering beachwalks, listening to music, delving so deeply into the reason for things whilst swimming in a tranquil pool of strength, grace and love with incredible, active emotional openess.

Taking my time.

The most beautiful things in the whole wide world are so simple really. One morning spent wandering along Commerical drive, shopping for fresh produce which found it’s way into a gorgeous evening meal spent with dear friends ~ we lit a fire in the backyard, guitars were played, voices ringing gently into that good night. I thought I would cry from happiness ~ (perhaps I did, I can’t help it sometime’s I do.)

Just an hour ago I wandered into my garden ~ things are growing here, raspberries, blackberries, wild cherries and chocolate mint. I feel as if this is something tangible ~ that I can hold, turn over in my hands, gather deeply in my heart.

Remember this post? I think I found my little shelf ~ a tumbled, bleached, and most beautiful piece of driftwood which I will put up in my studio and fill with treasured sea bottles and shells and whatnot. I like that word ~ whatnot.

I am feeling generous, loving, real, beautiful, personal, unfettered, joyful and wholesome after this week ~ and keep smiling in the middle of a sentence.

As I type I am listening to Neil Young (harvest moon) and contemplating the quiet sanctuary of my moroccan mint tea. There are flecks of gold spinning through the leaves in my garden (I can taste them in the raspberries)

Later I will watch summer rearrange the sunlight as the pendulum of the sun swings west.