The view from the floathouse today. And such a fine uneventful day it has been. I woke up to blue skies and sunshine and strongly considered hiking. But there were also other things on my mind: we had some shopping to do and I wanted to bake bread. If we were planning on Mulligatawny soup for dinner, there was no question in my mind that it would require freshly baked bread still warm from the oven. And so, all three of us went to Thrifty Foods and the pet stores do then back home for a beautiful salad that Simon made for lunch.
After my nap, I managed to do a very tiny bit of writing and plucking on the guitar. Now – as soon as the bread is rising in the pans, back to writing. Tomorrow, it’s off to the orange trail on Maple Mountain.
This kind of quiet domesticity is still new to me. I suppose I did have many quiet days on my own for all these years, but they were quite different. Never once did I bake bread. Never once did I take great care in the meals I planned or cooked. My focus was, of necessity, on myself, and so days passed in walking with Abby, hiking and, for at-home days, generally wasting a lot of time on Facebook or just being lazy.
Now there is someone in my life, and on some days, more than one (which is really very lovely) and my focus is outside myself. I take pleasure in these domestic activities because I they are meant to give pleasure to others – others I care about.
I love this quiet life. I especially embrace it because I know it won’t always be quiet. Simon and I are going to have our adventures – tons of them. These days are ones I cherish. Each day feels brand new. It’s actually quite difficult for me, a purported writer, to describe this feeling. I suppose contentment could be one word; so could satisfaction. Maybe the best one to settle for is happiness. And I am grateful that I can derive such happiness from a day so simple, so uneventful and yet so filled with love.