I have work to do this weekend.

The truck needs some work. The yard needs some work. The house needs some general, weekly cleaning, and we still have boxes to unpack.

But I hope to have the opportunity to do something I did last weekend, too.

With a large cup of coffee and a good cigar, I sat on the bank of the lake, my dog at my side, and did absolutely nothing for about two hours.

It was glorious.

When my wife pulled in the driveway after her morning “in town,” the dog decided she was more interesting and trotted up the hill to the car.

That’s OK — I had just finished my cigar, anyway — so I moseyed up the hill after him.

I don’t trot.

I consider it such a blessing to be able to sit peacefully on my porch or in the yard or by the water and watch the squirrels, bees, butterflies and dragonflies.

The geese and ducks get noisy sometimes, but so do the frogs, and I love the sounds of all of it. I can even tolerate the barking dogs I hear around us.

Because I am home.

I’ve always found it rather easy to adjust to wherever I live. But let’s be honest, some places are easier to adjust to, are they not?

It’s never been easier for me to adjust to being somewhere. When I round the corner in the road that leads to our abode and hear the water over the spillway and see the moving water of the lake, ducks swimming and people fishing, and the occasional rabbit or fox cross the road or yard, I find it’s not difficult to smile.

This weekend, I will make time to take a cigar, some coffee and maybe a book — I might even bait a hook or two — and sit in my chair near the lake.

I’ll make sure the phone is on silent and stick it in my pocket or leave it in the house. I don’t want to be disturbed.

After all, I have “work” to do.

News editor Brett Campbell can be reached at brett.campbell@dailyleader.com.