A sunny Sunday afternoon

A dahlia still thriving in the garden.

Rain is forecast for the next few days. Right now the sky is cloudless, although hours ago misty fog ruled the horizon. And a few days previously it was, get this, EIGHTY DEGREES FAHRENHEIT in our actual neck of the Redwoods. Global warming or late summer, take your pick. It was glorious, that's what it was, and our departing visitors joked that it's always that way along the North Coast.

I enjoyed hanging out with family this past week, days full of playtime and exploring, chats and many books read. My youngest granddaughter was keen on hearing Amelia Bedelia while her older sister enjoyed Horrible Histories, some Ramona books, and plentiful comics from Charles Schultz and Bill Watterson. Those sun-filled days seemed especially blessed, perfect weather to be out and about at our place or at the beach, where my better half and I took the grandgirls for a fine afternoon before high tide and a brisk wind sent us on our way. They all left on Friday, and just today I placed my sewing machine back on its table, where my daughter had worked remotely. Yesterday the ironing board was returned to its station, and this morning I got out the iron, pressing a few fabrics which I'll add to a quilt the girls and I designed. It needs more dark blue, and I'll swap in those newly cut squares later today or maybe tomorrow when the weather is better suited to indoor pastimes.

Amaryllis that will live to see a few more days.

Right now I need to be seated halfway in the sun, where my legs stay toasty, but my laptop screen is pretty washed out. It's an aged machine, but does the job, even in the elements, for which I am thankful because to be inside when it's so beautiful outside feels like a crime against nature as well as my mental health. Autumn is barreling its way along the seasonal road, dark mornings and early dusky evenings announcing summer's end despite lofty temperatures. Autumn also brings thoughts concerning books, although I will forgo a formal attempt at National Novel Writing Month. However I am planning to start work on Book 4 of my series, maybe within the next couple of weeks. During which time I'll sew up the quilt on the wall, cut fabrics for two other projects, and compile an unknown quantity of English paper pieced blocks. And of course weed and thin the irises, trim back the dahlias and amaryllis, and tame the blackberry bush heaving with unripened fruit. If I was smart and more motivated, I would do those garden activities now. But I'm feeling lazy, wishing instead to revel in the sunshine, not sweat in it.

I'm quite aware of the inner sense of simply being, perhaps a week spent with kids brought that into focus. I built Lego creations, played with Hot Wheels, watched the girls on the trampoline while drawn into their game of Charades. Yes often they were kangaroos and frogs, hehehe, but other animals emerged. We gathered wildflowers blooming in the bright sun, ate a few lingering fat blackberries, painted with watercolours and made cookies. When family visits, I am fully engaged with them.

My nasturtiums don't wander far, but in pots they reseed themselves all summer and make me smile.

Because after they leave, time returns me to my hobbies, and here I am, indulging in one of them. Birds chirp in a variety of cadences, the last apples from the tree dangling far too high for us to reach. Yet I made a cobbler with those my husband could pick, one piece left. On this sunny Sunday, my mind is a little drifty, anchored to reality but dreaming of future possibilities: books to write, quilts to sew, cobbler for dessert this evening, lol!