Monday, August 4, 2008


I step outside just as the sun is going down and check on my garden. The sunset paints the world more beautifully than I ever can. There is paint under my fingernails and bike grease on my right leg and I feel good in my tired body. I listen to the trains and smell the smells that are summer. The geraniums and the tomatoes and the lavender are memories, memories that I feel but don't think. They are memories of summers always.
The air cools down and so do I. Returning to the house, I look in from the outside. I sit for a moment and watch. This is my favorite moment in my favorite season and I feel it.
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Mark Robison said...

hey, i didn't recognize that back porch. did you and dan add that, or did your folks add that before they moved? (obviously it's been a while since i've been to your house....)

Cassandra Barney said...

We left the brick walkways so your mark is still here...Mark. The tree roots lifted the patio bricks so we added the deck a few years ago. I like it out there a lot.
Are you painting?

Mark Robison said...

ah, those were the days --dave kern and i, two colorblind artists, slinging pavers at each other in the christensen's backyard, while jim had the studio windows open blasting bonnie raitt....

i just picked up my brushes again after several weeks of inactivity. i had carpal tunnel surgery on my right hand a little over a month ago. so far it's no better than pre-surgery, but they told me it takes some time for the nerve to heal. i'd cross my fingers if i could feel them....


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