The house is quiet this morning. Will has gone off to work, the kids are asleep and I am curled up with my second cup of coffee and a favorite sweater, because according to our thermometer, it's only 55 degrees up here in the mountains. I should probably be working away. There is one more box to go in the house, and several piles to put away. And then more boxes in the someday-craft-room that I have simply stacked down there out of sight for the moment. But I think I'll just sit and enjoy the morning instead.
Yesterday we celebrated birthday three of our four-birthdays-in-a-summer run. This one was mine. Briton's, the last, is in a week and a bit. The day was full of all sorts of my kinds of things. My parents are in town, helping us move, feeding us when the boxes are too many to even think about cooking. In the morning my mom and I took Evie to a fairy house building class at a local inn while Briton and Poppa fished. Or rather, looked for river shoes and fishing poles and eventually just farted around together. Later my dad and I cut away at a tangle of old blackberry bushes where my garden will be. Evelyn, dress appropriately I think (Yes, the tags were still on the snow boots she chose), helped pick berries from the newly exposed fruit bearing vines. Today there will be pie.
And now there is quiet, and birdsong, and a cat who is strangely cuddly today, usually by now she is busy hunting. The beginning of a new year. A stack of gardening books next to me and plans to do some digging once I've had my fill of doing nothing.