The sun past the park treeline, I sit facing north watching a plump gray squirrel creep along the electric wire highway above my alley. A mosquito bites me but does not leave a welt. Humming A/C units turn off and on. The air is still but more pleasant than it's been in 2 weeks. I hear the phone ring inside, Jake's voice talking with Daisy and Fiona.
Clouds this year have given dimensions to the sky that shock and please me. The sky is so big now, bigger than I remember it every being since I moved from Texas. Jake says I'm wrong but this year is different.
A squirrel gnaws, somewhat desperately, at my baby pin oak branch. I need to decide between the pin and the scarlet. With the magnolia, two redbuds, a dogwood, and the straight hybridized red/silver maple, I can't keep both oaks. Like Penny says: I can't grow every tree. I think the scarlet will win. It's already taller than my house and the pin is crooked trying to get enough light.
My foot is resting on a large patio pot containing a basil plant and a jellybean tomato. Tiny red grape-sized fruits, the woman at the market told me. Right now they are green but I have hope.
Our old dog's bowl is still on the porch. Jake, I think, suggested it as a burglary deterrent. I don't think it would fool me.
The euonymus is leaving this fall. I will replace it, perhaps with a Japanese maple. The euonymus attracts too many flies to its flowers.
Steve and Jerry's wisteria is blooming, but they moved to Amsterdam, I'm sure they don't care. I miss them. To bastardize Frost, good hostas make good neighbors.
2 comments:
:)
Sigh. Lovely.
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