I love June.
It is, hands down, my favorite month of the year! The weather is pleasant and the garden is bursting with blooms and the air smells like wisteria and the birds are singing. Just . . . so many of my favorite things everywhere I look.
But I've noticed something different about June this year.
And it's a good thing.
If this was a usual-June and not a pandemic-June, I'd be scrambling like a woman with her hair on fire right about now . . . trying to make the MOST of June. I'd be preparing for our annual summer solstice party (cancelled) and prepping for a major fundraising event (cancelled) and going on my biking tour in Scotland (cancelled) and getting together with friends (nope) and killing myself with the garden work (no party; no ridiculous attempts at perfection) and fitting in my workouts (gym closed) and feeling bad about not going up north (because who has time).
It's June as I always imagined June to be. Relaxed. Spacious. Quiet. Joyful.
Sure. I'm missing my friends. I was really looking forward to that bike trip in Scotland. I love hosting our summer solstice party in my garden. But I'm also noticing something else. And it's something really BIG, actually. I've noticed . . . that I don't miss these usually-highly-anticipated things nearly as much as I expected I would.
The pandemic stay-at-home period has given me some clarity around what I'm doing and how I want to live the rest of my life. Do I really want to be part of the organization that usually hosts the big fundraising event in June? (I'm thinking maybe no.) Do I still want to host a summer solstice party? (I'm thinking yes. But maybe not at quite the scale it has been in the past.) What about travel? (Yes . . . but probably not for a while.) Do I need to belong to a gym? (Shockingly . . . no. I don't.)
I'm loving this quiet and more relaxed June.
I blame the pandemic.
Because I'd never have made these drastic changes to my life and calendar otherwise.
(Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?)