Countdown

We are in the final phase of the move now.  There is scarcely anything left to pack other than a few dishes, cutlery, and our shoes and clothes.  Every morning I resolutely work through the garden pruning and deadheading and weeding.  That work is relentless.  Then I sit about and read since the packing that remains can only be done at the very last, just before we leave the place forever.  And so it is that life is very much on hold, and a wonderful opportunity to consider how to live out a day without any real distractions.  The weather offers a psychic complement to the moment by being oppressively humid and sullenly hot.  Everything I read, my books, my journals, are not being absorbed; I am just waiting, and so forgetting even faster than I ordinarily do.  I guess that's all I have to say on the subject