Over the last few summers, I have traversed the country on some big adventures, and rarely have been home for a month, but now that I’m enjoying summer here, at home, there’s not enough time! Sounds silly, but we’ve had visitors to the house off and on since mid-May, I’m cutting wood every weekend at the river, trying to hit the gym, on the bike at least once a week, in the kayak once a week, spending most every evening cocktailing or visiting with friends, and running out of time. Last winter was long and icy, and we had many a night with candles and dinner where we had lots of time leering out at impassible streets and sidewalks. There’s a fishing trip with a friend I need to squeak-in, the kids are arriving from all over for a week in August, and before you know it, fall will be upon us, then the looming darkness and more time to ponder how the hell we manage the festivities of summer around our fair bay. Mind you, I’m not complaining, although the tone has a whine to it, I am simply amazed at how much energy it takes to keep-up with all that is offered in a short span of two months. A fortunate life in a glorious setting is not to be taken for granted, thus the attempts to make sure we hit up the concerts, lectures, author visits, art festivals, boat shows, sidewalk sales, on and on and on and… You get my drift. Back in the days of raising a family, I was busy with the usual full-time career, sports, and family-house chores. I thought retirement would be slow and methodical, which it is in the fall and winter, but once the warm weather hits, look out! I am outside and meandering from sunup to sundown. This morning I awoke to breathtaking skies and a quiet town. I lit a candle and began writing. I’m taking a deep breath and enjoying the moment. I’m…slowing…down…as…a…choice.