I have time by myself in The Blue Garden, writing paper in front of me waiting for a letter to be finished, a book opened on its last chapter. It will soon be finished and a new one is already waiting to share its magic with me.
Another week starts tomorrow. I should have prepared some work tonight, but instead I give myself the night to nothing lesser, nothing bigger than living.
A couple of greenfinchs are busy in the feeder, a seagull is flying over the house crying out its lovesong to life, my neighbour is taking her daily garden walk - I can see her image in the glass of an open window.
Gardening and words (reading and writing) have filled my week-end. More words are waiting to be read and written. I let them wait and disappear into the magic life of a shining diamon, a cobweb sunbathing in the Nordic sun.