lazy sundays.

I guess we all have our own forms of meditation…reading, hiking, biking, chanting, sitting, etc. For the past week or so, Hank has taken a few moments away from work midday, come in and announce, “I’m going to chop some wood,” and I say, “You mean meditate?” and he sheepishly grins and disappears to the wood pile for a while.

I’ve been on my yoga mat more lately, which makes my body seem to literally scream, “YES”. Even though my practice isn’t what it was before, it’s still like pulling on the most perfect of soft, worn-in-all-the-right-spots pair of jeans. It just fits.

Last night, we had friends over to share dinner. Afterward, as I sat on the patio with my best girls, feet tucked into a favorite blanket, I listened and watched. Our husbands’ laughter spilled up from the firepit by our gardens as smoke from the fire danced and swirled around them. We passed the newest baby in our village between us while my 4yo and his newly 3yo sweet friend (happy birthday EJ!) held hands and led each other from house to firepit to house again. Kinda melted me in all the right places.

There’s a peacefulness that comes from times like this with your people that fill you up. A peacefulness that rewards you with a great night’s sleep and even better morning–the kind of quiet morning where your husband has made-from-scratch blueberry muffins and a fresh cup of steamy coffee waiting for you for breakfast on that same patio from the night before.

It’s a lazy Sunday steeped in the art of doing nothing. Yet still being in the present so that ears tune into the birds going about their day, the boys are listening to Harry Potter stories in their tent that’s been dragged out onto the patio with pillows and blankets and an assortment of dinosaurs and dragons, and now my husband is meditating again by chopping wood.

Here’s to that.

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