Heat

I was on my hands and knees in the garden yesterday, planting seeds and it was 95 degrees and I had a hot flash and the sweat was pouring off of me in sheets and I lost my shit and came in the house and washed the dirt from my hands and arms and picked a fight with my husband for no reason and went and laid down with two fans on me and read an article about Sarah Palin in Vanity Fair and that made me even angrier.

Stupid Sarah Palin. Stupid me.

I don't even know who Justin Beiber is. Oh wait, it's Justin Bieber. Who the fuck is Justin Bieber? We live in a strange world where a minister from Gainesville, Florida can get world-wide attention by threatening to burn books and his father probably burned Beatle records.
Let's burn evil or at least what we, in our narrow minds perceive as such.
Sure. Why not?
I don't think heat is very effective at destroying evil, if you want to know the truth, unless you are talking about the evil of salmonella or other bacteria. It's certainly not working for me when it comes to hot flashes which are evil themselves and which seem only to serve as the conduit for more evil to be delivered to my heart.

Anyway, it's cooler this morning and yesterday's rain has collected on the leaves and the breeze knocks them down and I can hear the wet, solid patter of them as they hit the waxy magnolia leaves on the ground. For a few minutes the sun was hitting the blooming firespike and I took its picture as it glowed as if it were trying to give its name credence.

I need to go take a walk and I need to get my life together and I need to get the lettuce planted because all I planted yesterday were things that probably are not going to make it before first frost. Well, we shall see. One never knows when that will happen. It will be something to see the things I planted in such heat succumb to cold when it does.

I have no point here. There are no metaphors. I am just an aging woman who is trying to learn to live each day, over and over and over again, one step at a time, one hot flash at a time, one day at a time, as the light shifts from this patch of grass to this blooming plant to lick whatever it touches with flame.