They deem me mad because I will not sell my days for gold; and I deem them mad because they think my days have a price.Kahlil Gibran
I've been on vacation this week. Except for the brief sojourn with the rodent, I stayed home, enjoying the resort we're building here.
I'm grateful for the summer weather--finally--though the cool nights belie the name summer and make me face the reality of approaching fall. No longer do I gauge my years by the beginning of the school year. Each season blends into the next, my work unchanging. Only my wardrobe changes. Soon long pants, long sleeves, and shoes with socks replace short, t-shirts, and flip flops.
The lawn mower comes out less frequently. Garden beds have their winter mulch before we have even harvested the tomatoes. We still have strawberries and blossoms, as I plan the "greenhouse" for banana and blackbird this winter.
Labor Day weekend is here. I've reached the point in my life where I wish I did not have to trade my days for gold. But I do. And I am grateful for work I love.
Not yet, though. Vacation lasts three more days...and I intend to wear shorts, t-shirts, and flip flops through them all.