At Home

This morning I am possessed by vague recollections of reading the phrase “At home” in any number of novels, while utterly lacking the inclination to look up the specifics. As in, ‘Mrs. So-and-So is at home, Thursdays.’ That sort of thing.

After dashing around to try to settle the various parts of my life, I am finally at home. There are pansies in the kitchen …

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and any number of plants needing attention outdoors. This may be the best watering can ever:

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His mouth forms a spout and though he’s something that my friend Herb will deride as “twee,” remarkably functional.

I can sit and write and drink coffee in a chair of my own …

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At least when I’m willing to dislodge the cat.

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Though I’ve enjoyed every glass of wine with friends and family in the many places I’ve been of late, some stillness is in order.

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Last night, I saw my first firefly of the season and blew it a kiss. Today, maybe I’ll tend the garden (maybe not). So my friends, if you want to visit, you know where to find me. It’s summer, and I’m at home.

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This entry was published on May 23, 2013 at 11:59 am and is filed under Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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