It’s hard to slow down sometimes.
With so much to accomplish, the very act of sitting down seems mutinous. Yet I am sitting down in between tasks to type this, and to force myself to pause and reflect.
Pausing, indeed. I am still reminded of time passing: the metronomic wet drips from both bags of cheese curds hanging above the sink are hard to ignore. Surprising, really, how equally timed those drips are; the bags aren’t the same size. And I’m listening to the crackling of the loaves of bread behind me. Just out of the oven, their crunchy crusts are reducing to size. The pot of stewing squash (the last of the pink banana) emits a burble here and there. And through the open window, I hear the buzz and angry twitter of two hummingbirds fighting for the feeder. Even when you put two feeders out (as we do) they still bicker.
It’s spring. I am muscle-weary yet still anxious to move. Better get up and get going! Much to do yet.