The Golden Hour

I normally do not consider myself to be much of a wimp. My brother and I came from sturdy Swedish peoples, who eventually made Minnesota home. We are tough and hardworking. We are loyal. We don't talk a lot about our feelings. We don't complain about the work of the day, we get it done and move on to the next task.

Apparently, this description applies to everyone but me.  I want to whine about mowing the lawn last night. The bugs were really bad! The lawnmower made me smell like exhaust. I was sore last night, and stiff this morning when I got up. I sneezed - A LOT! And I got sweaty.

And I loved every single second of it.

This isn't my golden hour, but it sure is pretty.
Image Credit Flickr User Axel-D

I mowed long, straight lines in the grass. I mulched up old leaves from last fall. I noticed the places that I will need to give a little extra attention to - a little more water from the rain barrel, or a bit of over-seeding to bring it back up to snuff. The wonderful sweet smell of freshly cut grass. The droning noise of the mower which seems to ease my monkey-brain into dropping the stresses of the day, a meditation of sorts. And knowing that I can indulge myself when it is done - a tall, cool drink in the golden hour, enjoying the silence of my lovely backyard. Planning my garden.