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.
3 comments:
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....)
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?
C
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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