I have no access to internet in the summer months. When June and July arrive I retreat to my cottage, safely ensconced in my garden, weeding or fussing with seedlings—"all bums and elbows" as a British friend would say—or simply sitting in a garden chair with a book, a half-knit sock, or a magazine.
On rainy days I putter about indoors, seeing to the chores that I never seem to have time for in the winter months. (Or the light to see them by.) Painting things, sorting things, discarding things, writing or reading things.
There is a serenity in being in tune with the cottage and garden, without the interruption of the electronic ether that so easily draws us into its grasp when available. Some say the lack of internet access makes one 'dis'connected; and I am the first to admit that it is a remarkable tool and an astounding way to learn, share and visit with people one would otherwise never meet. But there are other things with which to connect during these silent weeks: the flowers, the squirrels (what a side show!), the birds, the neighborly cats, myself, and those few visiting friends and loved ones who know the way.
I do miss knowing what blogging acquaintance might be doing with their time, or seeing how their gardens grow, or reading about what might be delighting them (or worrying them) in any given moment. I always take pleasure in the words, feelings, advice and caring that are so generously shared in this miraculous way, and I hope my summer silence won't be mistook for disinterest in their musings and evocative entries.
But I will play catch up when I return. Until then, I hope every one of you will be well, healthy, happy, and will find the time to enjoy all the lovely things that surround you every day in the World Wide World.