The sun is setting on another day in the country. This day, like every other day, is not marked or tracked by a clock. There is no nagging message that says I must do this or I must do that. There was nowhere I had to be. Which is why I was so busy.
There was a lot to do. Winterizing of the house. Putting warm weather things away and taking out cold weather things. Clearing out waste and building up the compost piles. Cleaning up fall messes, which will be back tomorrow. Working on writing. Taking photographs. We were out of bread, so I had to bake more. Animal care. A necessary trip into town. The list goes on.
It’s frustrating when I get to the end of a long day and feel as if I’ve barely accomplished anything. There’s no time clock on which to punch out. I basically work until I’m exhausted, and I know darn well that there’s just as much work to do tomorrow.
Then the sun sets, and I figure if the sun can still be so beautiful after a long day of travel, if the sun can wave farewell to me with such a dazzling smile, if the sun can labor with never a complaint, maybe things aren’t so bad after all. Maybe peace and beauty are still the important things, and the busy work can wait until tomorrow. It’s a gift given freely, which I gratefully accept.
Tomorrow the sun will be right back at it again, toiling tirelessly in order to take care of the entire world. In the face of that, my chores don’t seem nearly so difficult.