Tonight is the first in several weeks that I haven’t had anything to be at or do, no rehearsal for a show, no practicing pitches with writing friends, no webinar I signed up for during what is easily the busiest week I’ve had since forever. Relaxing feels like I’m forgetting something. I went for a walk in the drizzle after work and didn’t even listen to an audiobook, which I usually do. I just wanted to listen to the rain on my jacket. I’ve been listening to murder mysteries for the past several months; it’s my way of forgetting about what I need to do and hearing about other (fictitious) people’s problems. In my world, there is always something to do next (though thankfully no murders).

My town is full of huge old oak trees, many of them easily 200+ years old. I love how they started from an acorn the size of my thumb tip and steadily weathered the days, years, decades, and centuries. Slow and steady goes the race. Lessons from oaks. When I got home, I noticed Hubby had stacked some rocks he collected to start making a rockery under the two oaks in our front yard. Back in Scotland he once won a competition building a drystone wall, which, like oaks have stood for centuries in Great Britain. One day I hope to have a big farm where he can build walls and grow vegetables to his heart’s content.