or Between the Rests
Someone, it seems, has been overdoing it in the garden. I've been sidelined again this week by CFS, and have spent most of the last few days alternating between bed, sofa-and-laptop, and the Adirondack chair on the patio. The restfulness has been critical, but in between lie-downs, I've been walking the (fortunately very short) path around the garden. It's been a bit like playing the harp part in an orchestral piece—pages of rest, then a few brief, colorful notes, and then pages of rest.
I suppose it's all about context. Rain in between dry spells means a lot more than rain in a gray spring full of showers. When quietness is the norm, you learn to savor moments of fullness: the rain, the flowers, the experiences—
all the things that happen in between the rests.