Good Reading Ahead of the Rain

 After nearly two weeks of dry weather, on Sunday the rain began. I snapped a few shots outdoors before it truly began to descend.

 I knew those zinnias would be trampled by days of downpours, so I snipped as many as I could before the heavy drops began to pelt me.

 I was inspired to dash outside with my camera by Henny Penny and her flowers.
Here are my marigolds. I sprinkled some seeds there in early spring and forgot about them.

 They've been beautiful for a month now.
Adam got a trenching tool and has been digging a good barrier around our beds to keep weeds out.

 That bed must be the most pitiful; it has only a eucalyptus tree that dies back each winter.
In another bed is a volunteer, spreading vigorously.

 We finally discovered it is a gourd!

 And speaking of stripey things, this little fellow is looking adorable as ever. He is still an only child. 

 Upon examination of the wings, I think there's a good chance it's a she !!

Of course, the bed in the garden where I carefully planted gourd seeds that I'd bought, is producing nothing yet.

 Sunflowers are tall but not blooming yet.

 Loofahs are only just getting going with their growth. We have a long ways yet until we get fruit from them.

 Loofah blooms curl up when the sun goes away, as it's doing in this stormy weather.

 I'm still getting tomatoes, but they're not fabulous.

 I picked the first pepper!

 The cucumber vines are saying, "May we please be done now?"

 This terrible-looking plant is a tomato volunteer from last fall that I over-wintered on the front porch and put back into the garden in the spring. Recently I hacked it back.

 Poor thing. It's certainly given its all. The dry weather though, has made our tomatoes wretched.

Since the rain started, I've been reading. First I read John Masefield's The Box of Delights. Kezzie, I recall you loved that book as a child ... or perhaps the BBC adaptation? I enjoyed it very much. Now I move onto an earlier book by Masefield about the same boy, Kay Harker, The Midnight Folk.

I'm already liking it a lot. I've been a little under the weather the last couple of days, so resting and reading are the doctor's orders.

When I was a girl coming home after school, I remember my mother usually sitting in a comfy wing-back chair, reading a book. She is an avid reader. She also did a good bit of flower gardening (no veggies though), but I believe those were her only two hobbies. She kept a comfortable home and cooked quite well for the family. She went to the grocery store each Friday and prepared her Bible study lesson each month. Generally speaking (to my girl's eye), that's what my mother did.

With that good example, why do I have this constant urge to be Doing Something? If I accomplish all my house chores, I feel a slight sense of panic at running out of Something to Do. If I'm too tired (as I've been these two days) to do energetic tasks, I feel downright guilty. If it's raining outside, prohibiting garden chores, I eventually get this pestering notion in my head that I should be Looking for a Job. 

... All because I am not skilled at being content, as my mother was, with sitting in a chair and reading a book -- after having tended adequately to the house and laundry, and raised the children into some semblance of adulthood. Most of mine are past the semblance and are downright Grown Up.

I am taking up reading again as a result of this pondering. I've been a lax reader, but now I shall return to reading for leisure each day, in those quiet hours. 

Do you ladies (or gents) have thoughts on this? Were your mothers such? How about you? 

Oh -- and I want to start up a book-sending system soon. I'm amassing a few books that I've enjoyed, but will not read again, and they're in good shape. I'm happy to ship them to anybody who would like one. If you can reimburse me for shipping, that's great, but if not, it's okay. Here are the three I have available so far:

Elizabeth Gaskell's The Life of Charlotte Bronte
Elizabeth Goudge's The White Witch
Elspeth Huxley's Gallipot Eyes

Leave a comment if you'd like one of those; first comment, first served :) But I don't know why we can't all just keep passing them around until they light on someone's shelf who longs to keep them forever.