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Here is a picture of me pretending to write. Really what I'm doing is getting ready to write by doing the following: looking out the window at the pristine bay (unseen in this photo due to overexposure), waving at my husband who is going out for a sail, obsessively checking for weak cellular reception, sporadically scrunching my freshly washed hair, taking a break from getting ready and eating a spoonful of yogurt, raspberries, and hemp seeds, adjusting my posture to make sure my back doesn't seize up, checking the battery life left on my laptop, and basically doing all that I can to not actually open up my document and write.

Why? Why is it so hard to get writing? It's summer, that's why. The weather is amazing and I want to be swimming and sailing and appreciating the fleeting nature of the season that makes Canadian summers so precious. I want to be present with my kids and my husband and see their smiles and hear their laughter. I want to slow down after a ten months of the usual insanity that is the life of a teacher.

I do NOT want to be writing unless it's foggy or rainy or cool. Fortunately/unfortunately, we've had a great summer so far, which means less writing and more appreciation of the Great North. I'm okay with that. I think.

What, then, have I done with my time?

I've awoken and just lay in bed, listening to the birds and the breeze and the lapping shoreline without having to jump up and make breakfasts and lunches and leave for work. Instead of downing my coffee while driving to school, I've sat sipping it on the dock, overlooking the rocky bluffs of the Bruce Penninsula, marvelling at the slow strength of water and time. I've streched my legs along quiet roads with the sun beating down on my shoulders and back. I've gone swimming in the cool bay and swallowed mouthfuls of clean water, aware of what a rare commodity freshwater is in this world. On windy days, I've harnessed the wind and raced the waves by sailboat. When the bay is glassy-calm, I've slipped across the surface on kayak or paddle board. I've shared space with mink and chipmunks, racoons and deer, and birds and fish I can't name. I've taken pictures to share with friends and family the awesome nature of our planet. I've smiled broadly with no one around to smile back.

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