43. It's the bending.

June gloom is upon us.  Our neighbors, the Stowell's, house above our upper meadow is about half way to the ridge of the canyon and is outlined with clouds.  The canyon wall behind and above is invisible.  I suppose the warmth of the cozy home keeps the damp filled bank of cloud at bay.  Two days ago it was 98 degrees here.  We considered putting the air conditioner in the livingroom window, but unpacking boxes took precedence that day.  Yesterday turned cool at 75 degrees.  As I now recall, the same thing seems to happen each year.  We have a few really hot days and then the gloom.  The cool is welcome, I have to admit.  The taste of summer makes us remember how really hot it gets here.  We are like Maggie, who wants to be on whatever side of the door where she doesn't happen to be standing.  Human nature, I suppose.

It seems to remain the same, the desire for something else.  We are content, really, there just always seems to be something just out of reach that will make things perfect, or at least better.  Even though we really know it won't make that much difference we still hope, subconsciously, I suppose, things would be so much better if "that" would just happen.  The imaginary ship comes into the harbor loaded with all things wonderful and it has your name on it.  Wouldn't that be swell.  We wait on shore with our hand shading our eyes (I never remember my hat) watching the horizon.  We know it's a waste of time, that things really only come to those who work hard, but it could happen, right?  Well, put your work clothes on and get busy because my ship along with lots of others has met with some sort of problem en-route.  I've decided at this point in time to be happy with my darling, sweet husband, our cutie little Maggie (who just vomited on the bed in the office), the beautiful upheaval of the remodeling of Gopher Hill Cottage and the more than gorgeous view.  Now if I can just bend over to pull up my boot straps, all will be just fine.