The past two summers John and I have moved--not just houses but cities. Summer of 2004, we moved to Pittsburgh only to boomerang back in the summer of 2005. We're both, I think, thrilled to stay put during the summer of 2006 and watch our new little garden grow. The leafy green plants have already sprouted--the mesclun is a good four inches tall, and the swiss chard has broken ground too--and I will stalk the slower herbs and root veggies into June because we really have no idea what we're doing. Yesterday I made up my summer schedule, a thing of beauty from the vantage point of May 2. Who cares if it succumbs to the unexpected; right now there appears to be oodles of time to rewrite/revise the book manuscript, working only on weekday mornings, leaving plenty of afternoon and long evening hours to bike and paint and garden and grill and drink mojitos and complain about boredom and prairie heat.
But for now I'm content to wait on our back patio while the semester docks, the wobbly old bricks cold under my feet.