Forgive me blogger, for I have sinned. It's been several weeks since my last post.
The sailing class was 100% pure and complete heaven. The Wooden Boat School is an impeccable operation.
I left with even more knowledge and confidence than I'd hoped. Consider me hooked on this sailing "thing." And it's not just because I'm having serious escape fantasies as the book deadline looms closer and closer. I really do love the lure of being free on the water, using your wits to charm the wind into doing what you want it to do. (Or letting it charm you? That's more likely the case.)
The class was also an extremely helpful (and humbling) bit of insight into how people must feel when they come to the KR Retreat for the first time. Butterflies, nervousness, yet excitement as you let go of your daily grind and surrender to a few days of self-indulgent learning and inner pampering. At someone else's hands. It was just the lesson I needed before opening up registration for the 2006 retreat.
Back home, the garden has entered its second and near-final flush. The newest and most welcome addition this year is a beautiful yellow rose, aptly named after my culinary heroine Julia Child.
In another corner we have some echinacea preparing to turn a rosy pink and beckon all nearby butterflies.
Mid-July is when my favorite mixed bed starts to bloom in front of the barn. I always dreamed of having a rambling farmhouse with squeaky doors and lace curtains and hollyhocks out front, and slowly but surely that dream is becoming a reality.
But wait! Wait just a minute! I forgot the other exciting garden news: the much-labored sweet peas made it. I have a whole row of beautiful, intoxicatingly fragrant blooms that just keep coming and coming. Aphids be damned (with the help of soapy water spray). Sorry the picture's so big, but I just couldn't help myself.
On the social front, the summer family visitors have come. My 10-year-old niece immediately asked me to teach her how to knit. I did, and then we sat there, quietly chatting and knitting. A lovely moment. Within just a few days she has created enough square and rectangular cozies to cover every object in the house.
I like knowing I'm sharing a healthy coping mechanism with her. She may not remember it in two weeks, but perhaps some day, when life gets stressful, she may wander past a yarn store and remember her kooky aunt and go inside the shop for a refresher.