Addiction

I'll admit it.  I'm a sun junkie.  Let the sun come out after a day or two of grey days and I'm out there basking like a lizard (without the pushups!).  I'd never make it in cloud-covered cities like Portland or Seattle or in dark-for-months Nordic countries.  Anyone who has ever been to my home realizes immediately that I am also addicted to reading; bookcases crammed full, sometimes double stacked, in every room, piles of books here and there on nearly every flat surface.  Boxes of books hidden away in cupboards like an alcoholic's bottles.  Give me a day with a sunny, not-too-hot morning and a good book and I'm a goner.  Look for me out on the deck; that's where you'll find me.  Beads and chores forgotten, I spent a good portion of yesterday in my favorite spot, doing what I like best.  When I was a kid, I spent two weeks (almost, but that's another story for another day) at a Girl Scout camp named Singing Pines.  I am reminded of that experience whenever the breeze blows here and the pines down by the road and in my woods truly do sing their own song, entirely different from that of the oaks, although they are in harmony.  A finger between pages holding my place, sometimes the symphony of wind and birds draws my complete attention.  At this time of year, looking out over the pasture I will see plumes of smoke rising from the burn piles of more industrious neighbors across the hill.  That smell perfumes the air.  Okay, just one more paragraph, just one more page, just one more chapter as the warmth soaks into my bones.  Yup, I'm addicted.

It was a relief this morning to see by the clock that I am back on schedule.  It's still too dark yet to see what the day will be like.  If the sun shines, I'll be outside getting my fix.  Count on it.