It’s been too long. This is where Kathleen and I ate our first several dozen meals after the move last September. Breakfasts. Lunches. Dinners (or as they say here in middle Tennessee: Suppers). We would sit sometimes for an hour without a word. Just watching the herd. Listening to the symphony of the frogs at night. The birds. The crickets. Smelling the roses. Without alternative. Locked up in the house over a seemingly endless winter, buried in work and warmth, the roses were fewer and further between. And easy to ignore. I often looked at it as a good thing because I was getting so much work done. Not bothered by those smelly old roses. But my spirit suffered. I only realized how much this morning. Out here at breakfast.
There was simply no choice.
Blood pressure dropped, breathing eased. And I glazed over for almost an hour. That one hour was worth all the 15 degree days, the rains, the snows, even the hand-lugging jugs of water to the barn after Mariah fell through the ice and shut down the pond and the “freeze-proof” spigot at the barn froze. Worth every bit of it. And when my Sweetie comes back next week life will once again be perfect. Thank you Lord.