A Quiet Day on the Homestead

The old homestead is a bit quiet today.
Emery is working and Melanie is organizing her new home so I am here by myself.
A respite from all the busy-ness of late.
I strolled around the land, looking intently at all I have been missing. Grass grown too tall with the rain this week. Mullein spikes, reaching higher than ever with their tiny yellow blossoms appearing like polka dots on the tall stalks. Morning glories growing in all the wrong places, around vegetable plants and flower stems.
Its hard to pull them up, with their precious purple blooms so pretty, but they would strangle the other plants if let be.
The little chick strutting around with momma hen. Heading for the woods to find the juiciest of bugs.
Its hot out today, but it doesn't seem uncomfortable to me. Maybe I am getting used to the heat. We have been living with open windows and no air on, personal choice. I hate having the house closed up and I hate using so much energy plus the nights have been cool enough to pull a blanket up over me while sleeping.
Around the house, the pewter sits in its grayness on the shelf by the cold and unused woodstove. Not a bad grayness, but one that makes me think of times sitting in Medford Square, in Massachusetts at the Pewter Pot having a muffin with my sister and cousins. Laughing. Noticing the mural on the wall of old Medford when Clipper ships sailed up the Mystic river to haul rum. Having coffee poured to us in a delightful colonial style pewter pot. The real thing.
Paul Revere stopped right across the street from the Pewter Pots door during his famous midnight ride. I lived with so much history, and although I enjoyed it, I took it for granted. Knowing that a house was built in the early 1700's was more common than odd. Having gone to tea parties as a child at the Royall House, the home of a Loyalist during the revolutionary war seemed rather ordinary to me. The home full of period furnishings and rich with history.
One of the pewter plates on my shelf has the city seal of Medford. I was born there and lived two blocks from where so many ships were once built.
When I was back there in June, it felt so natural and so familiar to see street names like Ship Avenue and Riverside Avenue.
A look out the window reminds me of where I am now and how different the history.
In the living room a candle sits in the window that faces the street. Lit each evening. It seems welcoming and warm to have a candle in the window. It has brought more than one lost stranger to our door late at night, looking for help. Looking around, breathing deeply the scents of home, I look at the other wall and on it a Bible verse painted on glass. Made by a sweet young Mennonite girl, it was her way to make some pocket money before she was married. Trimmed in chain and reminisant of some forgotten art form from days long ago. I treasure it and look at it often as a reminder, now looking at it, I remember that I have not been such a good student lately. So busy, so preoccupied with planning and changes.
Tonight Emery is taking me on a date to the Cafe at Central Market. Latin music is on the schedule. We will sit and gaze at each other like young lovers, wine glass held in my hand, bread and cheese on the tiny table for two. Today, on this quiet day, it just feels perfect all around.