Sunday...

I love Sunday's. We have a bit of a ritual. I am always up early because the dogs wish to go outside. Once up I take care of the animals, make a cup of herbal tea, then snuggle up on the sofa with the dogs and write for an hour. The house is silent except for snoring pugs, and I am cozy and warm and happy. Around 7 AM I call my sister Donna and we catch up on the news of the week.

Next, Chris wakes up and we have a nice breakfast. Then we watch our favorite TV show, Sunday Morning.

When that is over it is time to shower and dress and gather up refuse for the dump. We load the truck up and go to the transfer station. The "dump guy" gives any dogs I have with me a cookie.
After that we do something FUN. Sunday is our day of rest.

Today we "rested" a LOT. We drove to Belfast and went to a book store, a few other stores, and the Co-op (where we bought dried garbanzo beans.) We went to the harbor and took photos of the winter harbor in the snow. Then we went to Lincolnville beach and fed the gulls bread. I took photos of snow covered kelp and shells and birds and icy rocks. My fingers and ears were freezing... the mercury in the thermometer danced in the low 20's. From there we went to Camden harbor (with bread) and I took a lot of duck pictures. The ducks stood so close to me that they put their orange, webbed feet on my boots. They ate bread from my hands and bit my fingers with their flat beaks. I giggled like a kid.

After all THAT we went to see True Grit. I have not seen a movie in a theatre for many years. Chris put his arm around me and held my hand, too. It was all very sweet and cozy and romantic.

Then home and a supper of slow simmered vegetarian chili. As I sit on the leather sofa covered in a warm blanket and a lot of dogs, I feel myself relax into a state of utter contentment. Life? It's good. Did I mention that I love Sunday's?

On things that break...

This very cute oil company is in Belfast, Maine.
Oil has been on my mind... as the boiler that heats this old house was (ah hem) CONDEMNED at its last servicing a few weeks back. As fall takes over the New England landscape and the evenings grow chilly, I am reminded what a lovely convenience it is to have a boiler to heat the home. The few cold nights we have had so far have been amply warmed by our trusty wood stove, but when winter comes we would be in sad shape without a rumbling heat machine in the basement. So now we are waiting for quotes from contractors to come in so we can choose the best route to take for home heat.

Meanwhile, the washing machine died a noisy death on Friday, just as company was arriving... and the same night the downstairs potty decided to leak. A lot.

Luckily my handy husband has already repaired the leaky commode and has narrowed down what part we need to replace on the washer. If only the boiler problem could be fixed so easily and inexpensively....

Day unfolding...

I was raised by parents who were, perhaps, a bit tense and up-tight. They plotted and planned and micro managed. When I met and married Chris, I learned the joy of being with a person who is skilled at going with the flow of things. His idea of a very good day is one in which the events just unfold, with little planning. This took some getting used to, but I have learned to love his method of enjoying time. Like a flower opening to the morning sun, our days together unfurl and move gently with the light.

We discover wonders... such as faces carved into pilings along the harbor in Belfast.

And we visit friends... in this case my beloved Liz, who was riding Peach in a local horse show. They are stunning together; poetry in motion. Peach was dappled, warm and fragrant, Liz funny and elegant in her own special way.

Barefoot on a chilly, rocky beach I made a wondrous discovery... the sharp rocks and shells were owie to walk on... but if I held Chris' hand the discomfort was far less noticeable. The mere touch of his hand in mine made the walking fine. So, I guess that is why when his big arms are around me life and its unfolding days are oh-so-good.