lately, mid-june
The sun is hot and the storms are sharp. I sing rock-a-bye baby next to trees and mean it.
A kiddie pool on our front patio. The water heart-stopping cold. I was trying to think of something more beautiful than bright blue water on a very hot day, leaves floating above their shadows.
Thousands of pounds of six rocks rolled on poles above 2×4 lanes across the backyard.
Three new spruces to make a fence along the sidewalk on Brooks Street. A big yellow truck extracts and inserts trees with its mechanical shovels.
Blueberry crumble one night, rhubarb crumble the next. Rhubarb from the garden. Rhubarb sparkling soda. Blueberry pancakes.
A relationship-strengthening fight that ended with a rainstorm. That despair of a shaky planet. Pieces of sharp thoughts push up tears from dark interior corners. And then the wind rocking the trees, a kiddie pool quivering, and the meaty truth that love always wins.
Dogs right next to their shadows on the patio, in sun and then in shadow, taking turns, in sun and then in shadow.
Two pieces of plywood tied too loosely to the roof of our jeep, along with a 2×4, then stopping abruptly and the plywood pieces careening forward at the SUV very close in front of us, then for some reason curving down and sliding under its wheels, and the 2×4 shot sideways across two lanes of traffic and rolling up someone’s driveway, no oncoming traffic, no cars slamming behind us, no pedestrians coming, all at rush hour on Huron Street. Henry was fussy and then he was calm, a miracle demonstrated.
A cheesecloth railing on cable wires in the studio, 16 feet of cheesecloth sewn to roman curtain ribbons. I felt like I was sewing a wedding gown, Henry on my chest and then my back and on the floor and on my chest again, bouncing a little as I sewed.
Believing more and more that there are no rules to this life, no shoulds at all, except to pay your taxes and try to keep your children safe. Other than that, I really can do everything and nothing. I pay the consequences, of course, but I can still choose.
Feeling the sharp internal blame at any little thing, then stepping back, turning toward myself with compassion and curiosity, and finding harmlessness here. That mantra, compassion and curiosity.
Red sandals.
Skirts.
Strawberries in the garden. Corn growing to our knees. Groaning to our knees. My first ever seedlings in pots: basil, chives, parsley. It’s silly that I’m married to a gardener and these are the first plants I’ve ever grown from seed, but this is his territory and I did not grow up with plants. Up to this point I’ve really only drawn and photographed them. The basil is first to emerge, then the chives. No parsley yet. I love the thick shiny basil leaves and that smell of summer. BASIL IS ONE OF MY TOP TEN FAVORITE THINGS.
Sunscreen and wide-brimmed hats and tiny hats with ribbons around them to keep them attached to a boy who turns from side to side, side to side, absorbing the green world.
