A most glorious day.
Blue skies with magnificent white clouds floating by,
Sometimes obscuring the sun, leaving a chill in the air.
Sunlight illuminates every color of green. Overwhelmingly green.
Every flower blossom exudes fragrance on the air,
Passing by just to give a whiff, of pleasure.
The mottled ground, shadows of quivering leaves.
The Bush Tits flitting, where else? In the bushes.
I’m mesmerized. I cannot move from this chair.
What if I miss a moment?
I miss winter already.
I miss the dark and brooding skies,
As I look up through bare branches hanging overhead.
I miss the mist and the cold wind against my face,
And pulling my coat and my scarf a bit closer around me,
And my hat tightly down over my ears.
I miss the hard, hard rain,
Soaking through my pant legs and my boots.
Although it’s barely spring,
I miss the long nights of storms blowing through from the east,
Rattling both shutters and awakening my fears.
I miss finding comfort in piles of quilts and wool.
Even the soft light of spring seems too harsh, too bright.
I’m not ready. I’m not prepared for what is exposed in this light that comes even through clouds.
Though there are a million other beautiful things about spring,
I miss winter already.
August 6th approaches.
It’s heavy and hot.
It’s midpoint summer in our hemisphere.
Ever so slowly we tip…
We tip away from the sun.
For less daylight.
As daytime heat soars,
The night air cools.
Still time to swim and eat outdoors.
The Wild Blueberry, Bad Sheep socks are done. I only wish this photo did the color of the deep blue justice. It doesn’t begin to capture the color.
Even though we are a full month away from autumn, I’m anxious to put these babies on. They will look amazing with my Birkenstocks.
Now, I’ll go back to working on my Magnolia sweater. It’s been sitting all summer while I waited for more yarn to arrive. The kid silk came from Latvia. After months, it finally got here. Now to try to figure out where I left off.
I’m glad I had these beautiful socks to work on, as well as some other projects, like another pair of socks for Hannah and Nori and a hat for Jesse.
Now I want to find some woolly DK self striping sock yarn in autumn and winter colorways to make some more socks. A girls gotta have a simple project on the needles too for when one needs a break from knitting a lace pattern.
The late summer weather is beautiful and pleasant, though we’re looking at some heat coming our way for next week. I’m loathe to let summer go as I wait patiently for cooler weather and fall color.
We had a thunderstorm last night with pouring and pounding rain, bright white flashes of lightning and booming, rolling thunder and wind blowing the trees sideways. It blew by. It lasted for just under 20 minutes.
I counted the first burst of sound and flash of light that woke me from an uneasy sleep, just like Mom had taught me to do. “One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand.” It was right over head as it headed west. I quit counting at seventeen one thousand… it was traveling across the midnight sky.
Then just as suddenly as it began, all was quiet again. The trees stood still and the undisturbed darkness returned. The smell of wet pavement blew in my open window as the drops of rain fell on the warm streets.
When I woke this morning, we’re back to the heat with bright sunshine. The sky is light blue with high fluffy clouds thousands and thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of feet in the air.
The light is a soft, muted golden yellow. Even the air itself, as if it were visible, shimmers. I think because of the slow and gradual transitioning to autumn, and the extreme heat we’ve suffered, the leaves are starting to turn on the trees and fall to the ground.
What a sight to see and remember in this late August time.
Cottonwood tufts,
Float by on warm air,
Into sunlight.
It’s a hot start to July.
The garden is heavy.
The day lily’s bow towards the porch and face up to the sun.
The climbing roses pull-down the trellises.
Those roses that climb the lilac, have bent the branches to block the door.
A million apples pull and arch the columnar,
And the espalier reaches for the ground.
While the jasmine, heavy and fragrant, lies upon the grass.
It’s just past noon on the summer solstice.
For days it’s been cool and raining.
Everything is just a bit damp.
While the temperature is climbing,
The hammock is calling.
I answer the call and lay down,
and I gaze upwards.
The sky is so blue it’s an impossible shade of purple.
The leaves are every shade of green,
From black where little light can reach,
Under the dense branches,
To chartreuse where the leaves shine against the sky,
Almost translucent where sunlight amicably tries to penetrate.
I think I’ll just lie here for a while.
After all, the warmth and beauty are mesmerizing.
Today, I’ll make lemon pudding, I thought. I’ll squeeze the fat fruit. I’ll scrape the bright rind. I’ll stir the cornstarch and sugar together with the zest then I’ll pour in the juice. I’ll stir in sweet milk and when it begins to thicken, I’ll add in the creamy butter.
Then there came a memory like they are wont to do.
A lemon tree stood alone in the yard, scarce of leaf, bent and rough of bark, unexpectedly laden with fruit.
That old tree brought me joy on days when I tired of rice and onions. I’d go to gather the flawed, dimpled, sun-like yellow fruit to make pudding.
All I needed then was sugar, an egg, a lemon and cornstarch to stir until thickened. Lemon desserts aren’t lemon to me unless they make my jaw hurt from the tartness.
Now that I have the luxury of butter and milk, it doesn’t diminish the sweet and tart lemon pudding I made when I was poor… more poor than I am now.
The old lemon tree is far away but I’m sure it still stands. Why would anyone dare to cut down such a bountiful tree. But then who knows for sure what others might do. At least in my memory it still stands.
Now, I buy lemons from the bins at the store, the same store where I buy the butter and milk. I don’t know where any of them have come from or how far they’ve traveled.
I’d prefer anyday to go out and gather lemons from the old lemon tree. I’d fill my pockets with the warm fruit, heavy with juice and make the simple pudding that makes life good.
…………………………………………………
May the rain fall
And the sun shine on you,
And sometimes at the same time.
eyeamdust 