It’s tempting to rest, but gardens and summer call, no matter the mood
Up early after a disturbed night’s sleep, spirits low but much to do. I had wanted rest and to recuperate. My bones ache, my heart too, but gardening is therapy.
I had run out of time the night before, stuff left undone. So I am at the allotment, Monday morning before 5am, almost no one else on the road. At the gate, it is just me and the joyful chorus. My troubled world suspends, almost disappears. My breathing and pulse rate slow. I will drift awhile in the moment.
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