For the last few days, a very warm South Wind has tenderly and gently blown off many of Aspen's golden Leaves, carpeting the ground in glory.
We have worked hard this summer; a South Wind blowing at this time of year in the Cariboo is a call...a soft whisper which reminds me it is time to visit the Coast.
Time to once again enter the realm of family and the stories of happenings in their lives...I want enough of those stories to last me until the next visit.
The dogs, sensing us leaving, followed me around with great anxiety...until Faye from the Urban Pooch Pet Sitting Service arrived. She reminded them of last time, when they went for long rambles through as yet undiscovered bush...and after a moment of recognition and a great deal of sniffing, they were ecstatic.
I cannot begin to tell you how grateful I am Faye was sent to us, as we fumbled our way on a different path. She makes it easy for us to take overnight holidays or...a trip to the Coast.
Take a break from the incessant renovations and building and excavators...so says South Wind, in a sibilant whisper.
And so we will.
Graham formed the concrete for the Woodworking Shop slab and contracted out the finishing. As he worked on this project, I built garden beds...everywhere. There are empty beds wherever the eye rests...awaiting Hostas, Ferns, Columbines, and Lilac Trees.
As I built the beds, I took notice of the different faces on the Stones and Boulders I used for edging. Some were very distinctive...dignified and mischievous, all at the same time. And some had definite gargoyle-like tendencies...but all fell into place neatly, looking very pleased with themselves.
I find very white Quartz Stones with veins of a dull, burnished gold running through them, as I search the construction area for Rocks who draw my attention.
One is very smooth and warm, in the shape of a ball cap. I have him sitting on the deck railing; to run one's hand over his back is to find instant peace. He is white, with the aforementioned veins...and he draws my attention, each time I pass.
There will be time to meditate with this Stone when I return. There are messages he wants to pass on.
I have a list of things-to-do, on my return. As long as I can, I will work on those garden beds until the weather chases me indoors.
The master bedroom requires painting and new flooring, as does the rest of the house. The scullery is still just the old kitchen...not yet ready for the work a scullery is known for.
And my office...yikes, my office! It will take me a great deal of courage to tackle this room. But I want to do it soon...I have not as yet grown accustomed to where everything is...and if items must be moved, it will be easier for me.
The old memory not being what it once was, you understand.
I want to learn more about quilting. I have a sewing machine now, courtesy of Graham's mother, and I intend to put it to good use during the long Winter days.
There are myriad other important items on the list. They deserve my undivided attention, without the resentment that can simmer, when beautiful days are filled with hard work.
That resentment fades away, however, when I look up and see the golden Leaves fall, spinning lazily down to Mother Earth.
And when I listen to South Wind, who beckons so strongly from the Coast.