I just took a pie out of the oven. A pie and two custards, actually, as I had too much pumpkin filling for the crust. The pie turned out wonderfully--the custards a winning experiment. Best of all, though, was what happened while they were baking.
The house was quiet and I was alone in the kitchen.
After stirring up the pie filling, I tucked into the corner chair/step-stool, a treasured perch of several in the house, leaned back against the wall, and napped gently to the smell of cinnamon, cloves, and ginger while next to a warm oven with a window open to the cool behind me.
It was a most welcome and needed embrace. School is out until next week but the freedom is filled with a significant writing project that I need to begin these days. I wonder if the naps are my body and mind's way of helping me make the transition to writing mode-- a way to put the kids and the chaos of school aside and turn my face again toward the muse, toward the spirit, adopting anew the feeling of being loved like no other, the feeling of being a delight and beholding a delight. The feeling of living inside the Word and trying to write an opening for others as well as marking my own journey for myself.