I thought surely when August finally was finished,
I’d have time to work in the yard--digging privet, pulling honeysuckle,
trimming shrubs, planting new mums—stuff like that. But it was too hot still,
so I waited for the promised cooling.
When the cool spell descended, I found myself tied to
the writing desk and computer. First things first. An eye appointment and a
morning spent with colleagues to judge our poetry branch contest entries kept me
inside.
The next week, waiting for folks to come over to
gather pears for preserves, I did a smidgen of pruning. Enough to fill a
wheelbarrow—Carolina moon-vine, saw briars, privet. Of course, my friends had
to see the new floors. And we had to have a coffee klatch afterwards.
The
next day it rained. Then I had a trip to Conway for the monthly writers’-group
meeting.
Back to the writing desk to compose another chapter
for the Hot Springs novel group. And, of course, this weekly blog post.
Confession time: On the first Sunday of September, I
prepped for church where I’d directed/ played until retirement. Now, I was
singing tenor in the choir. The director would be back after recuperating three
weeks from surgery. The choir would sing, he’d said, a Communion anthem we
already knew.
But when I arrived in the choir room and opened a
bulletin, I saw that he was singing a solo.
Turning on my heel, left. My sis followed me to the car with stuff she
needed to return. I told her why I was leaving. “Tell anyone who asks, ‘She
comes to sing the anthem.’”
I want to know how many of you can--and will--set
your alarm for six on Sunday morning? So you can get to church by 7:45 for hand-bell
warm-up before playing in the service? We all do what we’ve committed ourselves
to do, and that’s what happened this past Sunday at Bryant FUMC.
At my advanced age and disposition, I don’t want to
have to be at church at 8 a.m., which is why I dropped out of that church’s
choir. Been there; done that; retired; don’t want to do it any longer,
especially that early in the morning. Call me a wimp . . . if you dare.
Finally, three hours before the deadline Monday
morning, and by setting the alarm for 5:30, I finished another chapter of the
sequel. It required lots of research, and was important in tying up one of the
subplots. I expected the writers to call
it an information dump, but they did not, thank their sweet hearts.
Oh, that same afternoon—Monday—I worked in the
iris-yucca bed cleaning old foliage and pulling grass. I also manned the
weed-eater until the two batteries gave out. So, I AM getting a little done
toward keeping the bushes at bay.
The days are getting shorter, aren’t they? Oh, well, I
guess so: it’s mid-September already. Wasn’t it still August just yesterday?
