In full confession:
the skirt (Ann Taylor 100% wool) was purchased at the thrift store.
It was an unexpectedly wonderful morning, as friend after friend messaged me to wish me good luck. I know that I am blessed with thoughtful friends but this morning really drove it home in the most delightful manner. Note to self: try to develop a habit of similar thoughtfulness. Right now, I fail miserably, but even more luckily for me, my friends seem to forgive me.
It seems like a nice quiet office. The view outside my window is fantastic, nothing but woods as far as the eye can see. I spent most of the day trying to figure out if there was a way to put up a bird feeder back there, but it is all the way on the back of the building and as far as I can tell there is no path.
Not a great picture, because I was trying to be surreptitious.
I will have to wait a bit before I spring all of my weirdness on them. As it stands, they are unaware of the existence of the farm. Guess that surprise will have to wait until lambing season.
For once in their lives, I wasn't home when my boys arrived from school. (My husband's office is in our house, so they weren't entirely alone, but it was a change of pace.) When I finally did arrive, all three of my children practically met me at the door to inquire about my day. Usually the best I get is a grumbled hello as they brush past on the way to the solitude of their bedrooms. My middle child even apologized for forgetting to wish me luck this morning. Curiouser and curiouser...
I was happy to be back home. I even put out placemats for dinner. I haven't done that I don't know how long. It was as if, by leaving, I could somehow appreciate the coming home again, and have new appreciation for making it special.
“Everybody has to leave, everybody has to leave their home
and come back so they can love it again for all new reasons.”
― Donald Miller, Through Painted Deserts: Light, God and Beauty on the Open Road