I read a book back in 2007 called
'The Sonnet Lover' by Carol Goodman, and made a comment in my hand-written journal of the phrase 'contemplative joy' which is what I used to name this blog. Here's part of that paragraph.
"Many are my aunt's roommates and friends, but my favorites are the small domestic still lifes that my aunt painted. A china cup and a glassful of wildflowers beside a window looking out onto a windswept meadow, a woman's hand parting a lace curtain to reveal a snowy orchard, a Morris chair, its green upholstery cracked and scarred, the sun soaking into a rich red shawl tossed over the chair's back, its colors echoed in the autumn foliage glimpsed through a window behind the chair. Each scene seems invested with a kind of contemplative joy."~page 56
Isn't that pretty? Now, as for my own restful sort of scene---the rain falls and I'm tucked up in bed with my pile of books and a cup of tea middle daughter made me. A perfectly made cup of tea is one of life's little pleasures I think. It's very comforting besides. During the night, the last trace of this virus hit me with a tight chest. Vacuuming earlier was a bit of a challenge with my breathing being short. Now as long as I take it easy, all should be well. Oldest daughter is making tacos for dinner (which she generously bought), and I'm not gonna worry about nuthin'. Deep breaths. Well,
you know.
(photo is of my current tea-drinking bowl from Anthropologie)
