This weekend was domestic, pony-tailed, picket fences bliss.
I cleaned my house – really cleaned it.
I mowed the yard, pulled weeds, chatted with a neighbor who edged my part of the sidewalk just because he’s nice.
I spruced up the garden and planted fall annuals. Purple aster, yellow pansies.
Built a fire pit out back with the help of friends. “Dual-burning”, with sides for both hotdogs and s’mores!
Bicycled Williamson County’s mega hills and music star farms: Lynnwood Way, Hidden Valley, Moran Road, Del Rio Pike…
(My lovely riding partner was patient when I almost died on monstrous Lynnwood.)
Read a book on my patio, Billie Holiday tunes in the background.
Watched college football at my girlfriend’s parents’ house while our children played in the yard. (Both our alma maters lost, but the company compensated for it.)
Let my daughter hold a bake sale with cookies she made herself.
Ate Chinese delivery on the screened porch when I burned a pot of bean soup. The little group who ended up at my house Sunday night minded not a bit.
I watched hummingbirds – two of them (male and female) – flit around my backyard. I don’t have a feeder; they like the wisteria tangled through the fence.
I saw deer, twice; once on the street behind my house, and again on a pot-holed lane at the bottom of a giant bicycle decline.
I was softer, more patient with my child and her gaggle of neighborhood friends.
I shrugged off small disasters – the burned soup, et al.
I didn’t take the interstate anywhere. I didn’t stay up later than 10. I didn’t shoot any tequila.
My bike ride into the country was as far away from Franklin as I ventured – a first in more than a season’s time.
After a busy summer, it was a gentle reminder of how much I love my home, how nice it is to slow down, and what peace can come with a well-timed wind-down.