Life is full these days. Not overly so, but enough for me to feel the weight.
With little wiggle-room for leisure, my mornings outside on the backyard swing in the shade of the sweetgum trees are temporarily on hold, and I am content. I want to savor the sweetness this fullness brings, for I know these days are numbered.
It's imperative that I also balance this savoring with a focus on the deadlines and commitments that push leisure to the edges, but the soft morning light on the rain-soaked tickseed blooming thick along the roadside fence proves too irresistible for me to ignore.
Emily and Anna still sleep as I wander through the tall wet grass dotted with wild yellows spiked with roserush and flowering weeds until my pant legs are soaked to the knees.
These sweet full days may be numbered, but I rest in the assurance of this: