Saturday, September 7, 2013
I can't remember the last time I went and had a glass of wine with someone sans kiddos. Really, I can't remember. I know it was at least fifteen months ago, before Owen was born.
Yesterday I walked up the road to my aunt Megan's house, one of the most beautiful places in the world. Her gardens radiate peace and reverence. She's a spectacular creator and tender of sacred spaces and knows how to utilize those spaces, too. We sat in the late afternoon sun and drank chilled wine out of Mexican glasses and talked dreams and schemes. She gave me a fresh plum from her tree, the chickens clucked, the sun made its way down, and then I walked home.
When I got there the house looked post-tornado but there was homemade pizza and the kids were happy. And that garden had lodged its peace and goodness in my heart.
It's pretty, no?