Busy days of early-morning chamomile picking, dill snipping, drawing all day, cooking without heat as best I can, then pitting sour cherries, trying to empty the crisper of market and garden which must go into belly, not compost.
Almost busy enough to not resent city. Last night I sat on porch, invigorated by sudden rainstorm, and found myself pumping fist in air and silently screaming (that's when you just mouth the words, but loud!)... ha! muthaf%#@s!
My little way of celebrating the fact that everyone else is getting their fireworks display rained out, but my dog is sleeping peacefully.
Rain stops, fireworks start, dog agitates. Whole valley has that match-strike smell. There is this Maxfield Parrish sunset, and heat lightning, and fireflies. Everyone's looking up, but I think those who see what I see... we're in the minority.
2 comments:
That was our sky too, here. xoxo
I missed that beautiful spectacle, but we witnessed ten straight minutes of hail that night! Definitely apocalyptic.
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