A day with no plans
We slept in on Saturday. A grueling week has its way of making one's bed feel like a cloud.
One of us rose at eight, one at nine, one at eleven, and one at noon. Bedheads and ratty jammies, shuffly steps and snuggly morning hugs, squinted eyes as the shades were lifted. Brunch was Poppop's famous sausage gravy. Because it's our diet cheat day, and baby if you're gonna cheat, go big. It's one of my favorite things he ever taught me.
To the garden, under mid-nineties blazing sun. Beans, squash, zucchini, and cucumbers are today's meal plan, and all will come from this picking. The Lord again speaking to me of provision, the miracle and honestly of vegetation. Long it's been since drops of sweat blurred my vision and fell from my cheeks, and strangely enough it felt like healing.
It's not been my best season. But maybe I'm on the upslope.
Boys keep busy and frigid cold in the well water on the slippery slide. We battle summer boredom, close-quarters bickering, and the occasional attitude. Open skies make it better.
The oldest has his first weedeating lesson, and handles it like a boss.
On the cool of the porch, coach and I down icy bottles of water ad break a few quarts of beans. We talk over an upcoming car purchase, the endless crawl of top-down Jeeps and boat-toting trucks headed for the lake, and he diagnoses my melancholy.
Later, Brandon and Aden take a screen break while Trey and I bustle around the kitchen. He chops. I wash beans. As the potatoes boil, squash and onion sizzling, we watch a thunderstorm creep towards the house. Our arrow prayers were quickly answered as God Himself watered our little garden.
Dinner is homegrown at its finest, and the diet cheat day is forgotten in the savory taste of freshness.
The kitchen left a mess, we hop in the car for the golf course. While the ground is mushy, the storm has dropped the temperature and vanquished humidity. Nine holes, two carts, and the boys played free. Driving a golf cart is a special sort of challenge for me. To reach the pedal I must sit far forward on the seat. In turn, I have no traction for the path's sharp curves and often find myself dangling by the steering wheel. But watching my three fellows chase around a little white ball is more than worth it.
Instead of heading home after our round, we head for the edge of the county. My goodness if we ever live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.
We chased the sunset, finally pulling in the driveway with a sky painted pink and orange. In the yard were five rabbits. Brandon leapt from the driver's seat of our still-moving vehicle, running at full speed toward the bunnies shouting who-knows-what as they fled straight into the garden. The boys and I laughed until our stomachs hurt as I took the car out of gear.
Sometimes a day with no plans is the best kind.
One of us rose at eight, one at nine, one at eleven, and one at noon. Bedheads and ratty jammies, shuffly steps and snuggly morning hugs, squinted eyes as the shades were lifted. Brunch was Poppop's famous sausage gravy. Because it's our diet cheat day, and baby if you're gonna cheat, go big. It's one of my favorite things he ever taught me.
To the garden, under mid-nineties blazing sun. Beans, squash, zucchini, and cucumbers are today's meal plan, and all will come from this picking. The Lord again speaking to me of provision, the miracle and honestly of vegetation. Long it's been since drops of sweat blurred my vision and fell from my cheeks, and strangely enough it felt like healing.
It's not been my best season. But maybe I'm on the upslope.
Boys keep busy and frigid cold in the well water on the slippery slide. We battle summer boredom, close-quarters bickering, and the occasional attitude. Open skies make it better.
The oldest has his first weedeating lesson, and handles it like a boss.
On the cool of the porch, coach and I down icy bottles of water ad break a few quarts of beans. We talk over an upcoming car purchase, the endless crawl of top-down Jeeps and boat-toting trucks headed for the lake, and he diagnoses my melancholy.
Later, Brandon and Aden take a screen break while Trey and I bustle around the kitchen. He chops. I wash beans. As the potatoes boil, squash and onion sizzling, we watch a thunderstorm creep towards the house. Our arrow prayers were quickly answered as God Himself watered our little garden.
Dinner is homegrown at its finest, and the diet cheat day is forgotten in the savory taste of freshness.
The kitchen left a mess, we hop in the car for the golf course. While the ground is mushy, the storm has dropped the temperature and vanquished humidity. Nine holes, two carts, and the boys played free. Driving a golf cart is a special sort of challenge for me. To reach the pedal I must sit far forward on the seat. In turn, I have no traction for the path's sharp curves and often find myself dangling by the steering wheel. But watching my three fellows chase around a little white ball is more than worth it.
Instead of heading home after our round, we head for the edge of the county. My goodness if we ever live in one of the most beautiful places on earth.
We chased the sunset, finally pulling in the driveway with a sky painted pink and orange. In the yard were five rabbits. Brandon leapt from the driver's seat of our still-moving vehicle, running at full speed toward the bunnies shouting who-knows-what as they fled straight into the garden. The boys and I laughed until our stomachs hurt as I took the car out of gear.
Sometimes a day with no plans is the best kind.
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