Summer arrived with a vengeance four days ago, with a sweltering 44.4C here in Perth.
Thankfully our seaside abode meant it didn’t quite reach that temperature, but it was enough to keep us indoors, blinds drawn.
Holiday mornings have been quiet and slow, and we wake when we’re ready; usually only after the second cup of tea. My magazines are actually being read, school booklists have been tackled and the big two are okay about not buying new school bags because there isn’t anything wrong with last years. I have plans to cull their clothes, trim their hair, and bake for the freezer in anticipation of the school year beginning. And I have filled a box of cluttery stuff from the kitchen alone. Simplify.
The last two days have cooled considerably, and our feet and floors are sandy once again, and our evenings have been spent outside in the garden. The weeds are overwhelming, my hydrangeas wilted and probably won’t make a come-back and the cherry tomatoes are bursting with green and red.
My baby lemon tree grows slowly, steadily. Spearmint sits wild and unruly, contained in it’s pot.
My growth is usually slow, and steady, small and unobtrusive.
But part of me is determined this year to get a little bit of wild, be a little free and unruly.
Writing my heart out here feels a little wild sometimes. Because I’m going against everything my mind tells me about over-sharing, or narcissism, or why-does-anyone-care-about-these-tiny-details.
I’m being wild because I’m sharing anyway.
I’ll click that ‘save and publish’ button with wild abandon, defiance and a little bit of arrogance*.
* Maybe that was something you needed to hear. Maybe you need to just get a little bit defiant at those self-condemning thoughts that come your way. You can do it. x