Breathe

Running on a trail last week, I was jarred to a halt by this sight. Two wooden chairs sitting where I would not expect. This is a public greenway. These chairs were clearly not placed here by the city.

Tucked into the foliage, set back from the trail several yards, the chairs invite passersby to sit. Relax. Contemplate the brief summer season.

Between gardening and writing, my summer has been busy. I'm shocked it is late August. Pumpkin spice everything is beginning to crowd the grocery store shelves.

Let's not rush things. The first day of fall is September 22. That's nearly a month away.  We have plenty of summer left.

I'm just getting hints of my garden drawing production to an end. I've removed a few plants that were no longer producing. But most of the plants are still going strong. 

My writing is, too. I'm nearing completion of a very rough draft for the fourth book in my Rose Creek series. I'm contemplating beginning a new cozy mystery series. I need to polish a short story. Two projects are out in the big wide world, waiting on acceptance or rejection.

All that dirt under my fingernails, or fingers hammering on the keyboard, are proof I'm moving toward something. Crops to harvest or stories to sell. Busy, busy, busy.

But those chairs, oddly placed in the thick summer growth, reminded me of the thing I'm not so good at. Stopping to enjoy the view. 

---