I brew a cup of Darjeeling, then slather a toasted sourdough English muffin with butter. I spoon on some homemade strawberry freezer jam, enough to drip down my chin when I take a bite. The white wooden porch swing hangs from rusted chains and creak-squeaks as I settle into it. It’s hot already, but it’s dry, and there’s a nice breeze from the west.
I plan to sit just long enough to eat. I have a lot to do, and sitting won’t accomplish it.
But . . .
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I’m honored to guest post there today.
I left a comment over there but I think it may have gone by the wayside. Thoroughly enjoyed this.
Oh, I know that feeling lately! Surely someone will find you soon and rescue you. Thanks!
Sandy you gave me a gift today–your words. I pray that you will put the swinging at the top of the list. And may you always cross it off…