Morning has not yet broken as I write this.  It is a lovely, quiet time. for there is no sign of movement  anywhere in this hour.  The street lights shine on empty streets lined with houses void of light.  “Silence is golden” , as my grandmother would say.  Now, I agree with her .  and I am careful not to do anything in these hours that create a sound . . lest, I break the spell.  I will leave that to the boxer.   

By the time that the sun is casting glowing, slanted rays, I start whatever task is at hand.  I am hardly ever at a loss for something to do. Certain tasks give me such a satisfaction, that I am reluctant to wait for dawn .  A few days ago, I waited with great eagerness ro make a cheese and to paint oranges in a painting, I am working on!  I gave in and crept quietly to the kitchen and turned on a small lamp.

I am happy to announce that the yard is at last tidy.  It looks loved , now.  With these last weeks cooler, the roses are celebrating and the cape jasmines are adorned with  an encore of blossoms here and there.  The rose-of-Sharons are blooming, while the hydrangeas are weary.  Not yet, has the confederate rose bloomed. but it is full of “promises”.  I rooted a small stem last year and it is now taller than me!  Cousin Chris and wife, Aino brought a stem of it, the night before  the first frost  last October and declared it would grow very quickly- They weren’t wrong. 

On rainy days, I tend to the old and small cottage.  Organization is a must in a small home. .   and especially  so in the kitchen. I have been cleaning cabinets. Besides improving efficiency for the cook,  (who is liable to become grumpy should she be making gravy or  a meringue, and have to stop to rummage through  a cupboard) . . there is also less waste, which I value, greatly.  I have  one cabinet left to do  and it is over the refrigerator, which I dread.

Though, I stay busy, I still spend a good bit of time wondering  about all sorts of things and entertaining all sorts of notions, too.  I take a stroll around the yard  .  I write little verses in my head as I go along and am apt to converse with the old oaks. I am collecting small pine cones to scent with apple and cinnamon oil.  I look as I walk.   I think that zinnias  are  such nice and cheerful  flowers . . .I hope to plant them  again, one day in early spring.    I wonder if I will ever live in the country again and then, I wish for snow this winter!  The latter days of summer are just splendid, I think-and I regret forgetting to buy some apricot tea.   

In my leisure time, I   “carry on”  in this manner.   . . and on most days. I suppose it has been a habit since I was a child. 

Teachers called it “daydreaming” and apparently it was sinful.   It was the only thing that  I ever got in trouble over.  I was as guilty as the teacher claimed I was in the note to my parents.  I had finished my math and was gazing out the  open window.  I knew Pop was plowing that day and I wished I was there-at home-smelling the dirt.  I knew the seagulls were there , darting and diving behind the tractor.  Seagulls always came inland when a man plowed-they still do. I knew Mama and Grandmama were in the kitchen and I wondered what little sister, Delores was doing. The slap of a ruler on a desk, broke my trance.  Hence, I did my best to restrain myself at school., from such  behavior, though my parents thought the incident was ridiculous. 

So now, I take my sweet time, as I meander, on Bonnet Street. For a while, the cares of this world are abandoned.  I am convinced that conversing with the oaks and thinking about tea and zinnias is profitable for my spirit.

We continue the awful work of cleaning out my parents’ house.  The house is at least half done. The garage has at least been cleaned, but though it is organized, it is still full of all sorts of stuff.  There are shelters and a small storage barn that haven’t been touched .. . and a shop full of tools, (which I will be useless in that task).   It is all exhausting and I am overwhelmed with what is left to be done . . .and yet I can not bear thinking about the conclusion to it.