When you're living in The Field, beside The Church in the Church's house
You sometimes don't know quite what to say in a space like this.
I tend to revert to "health" things, and then I just start sounding like an Old Woman with the rheumatiz.
There is huge potential for quietness this summer. In four days Hillary will be gone to camp in B.C. MY old camp, no less! Right by the city I grew up in. How strange is that. Stranger that she felt led there and didn't know it was my old camp. I've warned her against tall, dark handsome young men with last names like my old boyfriends'. Because THAT would be TOO weird. I've also tried to coach her on my family ties with the camp. I think this is the first time she's going to "The Mother Land". Most of her life has been spent where her Father's name carries weight.
Thomas will be around for meals and to do laundry. And it sounds like Micah is trying to hook up with a bit of summer employment in between camp gigs.
So, it might be just me and the birds.
And Randall when he's not at the office or wandering the countryside seeing what the farmers are up to.
The potential for peace and quiet is quite huge.
Interspersed with travel, maybe.
I was going to spend a day with my good friend in Victoria when we were at the coast for conference, but it didn't work, so I'll be working on a Victoria jaunt in August.
And my sister is moving from Yellowknife pretty soon, so I might try to fit in a northern excursion as well.
After a quick trip to Saskatoon next week to help Mom move.
Meantime, I blunder along, scanning the mini Rolodex in my brain for witty and profound things to write about here.
All the while feeling completely devoid of amusing banter and words of wisdom.
But the birds are singing. And they're still forecasting rain.
I live in hope.