"Happy Birthday son. I brought you a couple of flowers. You always loved flowers and you always brought me some flower or other you found outside or in the field. Now I am the one bringing you flowers, kind of, in the only way I know how. The rock your sister left you, for which she has the other matching half, is still there. Your monument inscriptions however are fading away. It's been a long time. I suppose that's why. I still feel your presence though, no matter how long it's been."
It was a busy weekend starting from early last Thursday until late Sunday. A fun one mind you. And no - that's not our motor home in the back yard. It belongs to my sister and brother-in-law. Our place turned into an overnight campground. We had a dozen or so people for supper on Thursday evening, Friday, Saturday and Sunday were all busy days too with a campfire burning almost from morning to night. We did everything except sleep outside. Busy and a lot of commotion but a great time shared by all. S;pending all that time outside was right up my alley.
My sunflowers which I planted really late and I thought might not get a chance to bloom suddenly exploded into an abundance of bright little smiley faces. Now they greet me each morning until the darkness of the evening sets in.
The bumble bees and hornets are loving them just as much as I do. They keep busy in that flower patch. That means they leave us alone which is always a good thing.
The sunset was beautiful when I was out for my evening walk last night. I got so caught up in it that I didn't even think of taking a picture until it was almost over and done with.
When I was travelling to Cochraine for my bike ride, we spotted a motor home with this licence plate. Made me laugh but also made me think about how that's pretty close to the truth sometimes. Maybe even a lot of times.
This is my truth. When I hunker down into some writing (which isn't nearly enough lately), time slips away like water running through my fingers, and pretty soon, an hour, two, or three, quickly disappears.