It’s so soothing to sit beside the ocean in the baking sun, with a cool breeze, listening to the sound of the waves. To float in the salt water squinting at shore, desultorily jumping oncoming waves. A marauding seagull steals the last of my sandwich right out of my hand as I gesture in conversation, but I hardly mind. Summer wafts past every day while I am distracted by things that need doing, but today I stand still and reach out to grab a bit of it.
An un-asked-for meeting at school turns out better than expected, but afterwards I stay too long in my office doing paperwork. Stop @ B’s house on the way home and catch this photo of an industrious bee having its way with one of her coneflowers. She’s off to visit distant friends in the morning. It seems that summer is only beginning and yet almost over– a depressing thought. I make a date with my friend E to hit the beach tomorrow.
My friends convene today, finding ourselves all in town at the same time, but only for a couple of days. Our schedules have kept us apart for most of the summer and we quite spontaneously decide to visit a local butterfly “zoo” this afternoon. It’s a rush, literally, to walk into a small bright greenhouse and be suddenly surrounded by the whir of tiny beating wings. Butterflies and caterpillars from all over the world have been gathered here, along with the plants that support them. There are students from a local university to answer all our questions, and lots of photo opportunities– although I end up with more than a few shots where the protagonist has flown. We talk and laugh and marvel and eat ice cream. A pretty perfect summer afternoon.
My garden plants have tripled in size while I was gone. Giant leaves of chard stand waiting to be picked, huge tomato plants covered in blooms promise delicious weeks to come, herbs rise up tall and tasty. It is a treat for a city dweller to have a little patch of home-grown produce just outside the back door.
What a delight to wake up in a comfortable bed! One of the benefits of leaving home for an adventure is a renewed appreciation of how comfortable it seems to be enveloped by an environment of your own making when you return. It’s a simple day of unpacking and laundry, trading the smells of smoke and mildew and sweat for soap and sunshine. I send an email back to the island to let them know we have arrived home, and find that it just stopped raining there two hours ago. The news makes my present comfort seem even sweeter.
sunlight dapples waves lap the shore
we lie here dreaming of nothing
at all for we hold everything
in this moment not needing more
here there’s no after no before
only the wind through the aspen
not wondering what will happen
just memorizing how this feels
forestalling time until its wheels
run past us and this turns to then