The month of May, for us, is the busiest month of the year. For the past four weeks we have been moving at such breakneck speeds that we literally kicked up clouds of dust and cyclones of wind. We were in such a whirlwind of motion we couldn't see ahead, but could only deal with the matters at hand.
This past Friday we rushed around with end of school activities: we attended Mass, retrieved report cards, passed out gifts, gathered our backpacks, and said our goodbyes. By noon we were home, and everything came to a screeching halt.
The dust settled.
The air cleared.
We took the boys out to lunch (no fast food, but a nice sit down restaurant), talked about summer plans, and then went to Target where we let them pick out a small end of the year reward (a tradition).
Saturday morning I woke up and didn't even open my laptop; instead, I went outside and transplanted tomatoes, moving them from black, industrial containers into two beautiful planters that have transformed our deck into Tuscany. I planted geraniums in terra cotta pots for our front porch, petunias into the birdbath, begonias and English ivy in our flower boxes, and gerber daisies in pots which I placed here and there.
I soaked up the sun, sank my hands into dark, rich soil, smelled the earthiness of springtime, and drank glass after glass of ice cold water.
Everything was so clear and uncluttered. I could see ahead to the afternoon, that evening, even the next day ... gifts of time with no demands.
Time for summer.