Whenever I paint something: the walls of a room, a piece of furniture, an oil painting – I really look forward to seeing it again when it is dry. It’s like God, time, something unseen needs to intervene to finish it.
It’s not done until it’s really all done.
The same with gluing something together – next day, all those pieces are one whole thing again. The same with waiting for the scrapbook page to dry or waiting for pottery to bake.
Now, some people would rather wait for some muffins to bake far more than some pottery to bake. I understand this well.
Perhaps this is some of the joy of cooking: being the alchemist – mix these things together, bake and wait, and voila, cookies, or a stew, or a pot pie.
I look forward to waiting for that tomato or peach to ripen, or the buds of a plant to flower – just 1 more day, 1 more day.
Something to look forward to – during the day, looking forward to the evening stars and moon - during the night, looking forward to the morning sun.
Just something to look forward to – breakfast, lunch, dinner, sleeping, the mail, birds singing - a litany of happy gifts, promises of each day.