This morning we filmed, this afternoon I was sewing samples, getting tenders for freight, and answering customers’ queries with the doors open, the ceiling fan on and little Suscipe asleep in her basket, fading fast, poor thing. The air smells of salt, pine and jasmine, my favorite music is playing, I am pleasantly aware that the house is still tidy, things are up to date, Buckley is freshly shampooed, and for a usually mucky little dog that is saying something.
So, it isn’t that things are perfect. In a perfect world Buckley would have an owner who loved him, and I wouldn’t be cutting the filth from his body and cleaning the open wounds underneath and giving him a Mrs Meyer’s Oatmeal and Lavender bath, as if that could solve all his problems. I wouldn’t be planning a Viking funeral for Suscipe, as I’m afraid if I plant her in the garden the raccoons will dig up her body.
The contentment comes more from enjoying the pace and balance of this season, and the richness of the community we are in. I wanted a hairdresser, Googled someone promising in Fourth Street: on Monday I met him at a party! Last night I met a neighbour on her way back from a thirty mile bike ride – impressive! – so invited her over and we sat eating and drinking and watching the moon set until ten o’clock. I can count on meeting people I know when I walk. The sheer physical beauty of the sea and sky, recognising the swallows which nest under one house as opposed to another, the softness of the air. Stefan’s publisher has taken to calling him ‘beloved’, I have the best clients in the world. My sister’s book is finished and in print, my children are contemplating adventure, and it all feels so good.