Sunday, April 30, 2017
Not a great picture but that's the bloom of the rattlesnake beans- a tiny orchid, a miniature masterpiece of a flower.
I just picked sugar snaps to take to the Wacissa for Jessie's birthday gathering. My cake turned out lovely and I hope it tastes good. I will bring candles and Mr. Moon is washing the convertible. The chickens are running the yard and look like a wave, a dancing field of wheat, when they all run together from one place to another. Mr. Moon saw two of the teenagers bow up yesterday like...roosters.
I got ant bit on the feet as I picked and it is well and truly starting to feel like summer. Taste like summer. Look like summer.
Please. Could we get some rain?
I feel heavy as lead encased in granite, heavy as the heart of the densest planet.
The chickens scratch through the dry leaves beside the porch, they murmur softly about what they find. The old convertible's engine rumbles as Mr. Moon pulls it closer to the house.
A woodpecker drills a tattoo.
We are going to the river where sometimes all is forgiven, all is washed clean.
We are gathering at the river on a Sunday, today.
If nothing else, the cold water will sooth my ant bit feet and boys and girls will jump from the rope hung high in a tree, swinging out over the water to fall, to splash, to sink, to rise.