Today, June 21, is the longest day of the year. Right now, here on the West Coast, it is 9:03 p.m. and still light out. The picture of the lilies on this site was taken around 8:45 p.m. Still enough light for a great photo.
Yet today was not nearly long enough for everything I wanted to do. The day was long enough for the things I should have done, and for the things I promised to do. However, it was not long enough for my personal agenda.
So I ask myself if this day was a good day, a day well spent. I think it was, since I got a hug from my brother for bringing him home from the hospital. I went to work and earned more money for groceries and art supplies.
Aha! I did get one thing done: I bought acrylic paints to try in my altered book/journals instead of the tempera that has wreaked havoc with my pens and markers. We shall see how it works out. Judy Wise is the wonderful friend who gave me this advice and she makes wonderful altered books which double as journals, too.
There is still a smell of the mock orange filling the backyard and the subtle scent of the petunia basket in the sunroom.
All of the magnolias are blooming too high right now to pick. I want to bring one inside and let its fragrance fill the room.
On a regular basis, around this time - toward evening - I ask myself if I have laughed today. Not just chuckled or snickered, but really laughed. I think perhaps it's the secret - one of them, anyway - to staying healthy. But I feel a little sad tonight, saying goodbye to the longest day of the year. Now each day will become successively shorter and the night will fall more quickly.
Every week I find myself trying to cram more into the days, staying up later and later to finish what I didn't accomplish during daytime hours.
It's not just the days that are getting shorter, but my life ... with so much yet to do; so much to finish. I can see myself when I'm 80 years old, rushing frantically around, trying to accomplish a little bit of everything.
Why, oh, why, don't we believe the "old folks" when they tell us life goes by like a rush of wind?