Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. It was one of those crazy storm days, when the sun is shining bright and the wind is blowing hot and hard and the skies are full of billowy clouds and on the horizon there’s a looming dark mass and you know all day it’s coming in the evening hours and it does and my gosh it’s beautiful. The Storms of Summer are right up there with the Storms of Winter and I love every one of them. I love the smell in the air, the changing colors of the sky, the roiling, the lightning, the crash of thunder and the inevitable torrents. I love the way the air is charged, the way we keep watch, the feeling after, once again, of surviving.
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Spent a good part of Saturday and much of Sunday cleaning up after my garage sale, which was a fine time for sure, and it felt so good to sit down awhile both evenings and sip some iced lemonade and listen to the radio awhile. I’ve avoided television lately, for about seven reasons, and since it’s summertime and everyone is around, I’d much rather have a conversation or walk with Mr. S, or one of the kids. They’re home now, for the summer, and that pretty much means they sleep here, sometimes eat here, and now and then hang out here.
Listened to the show Saturday, and it was not bad. I was in the garage all the while, getting ready for a garage sale that went for three days this week and let me tell you, it’s been nice to sit in my rocking chair and just chat with people after all that preparation. Lots of unpacking boxes dropped off by friends and folding and sorting and marking and I have to say when the garage door opened on Wednesday afternoon, it looked pretty dang good, what with a few lit candles in the corner and five tables full up with good things and soft music playing in the background. I covered a wall with framed pictures even, and it looked mighty well put together if I may say.
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Been a whirlwind of a transition from spring into summer and we’re not there yet but almost with the heat index predicted to hit 100 shortly. I’ve been flying around like a dervish getting things in order for my Big Garage Sale next week — three days of pure joy sitting in lawn chairs with friends and meeting new people — and of course in the midst of cooking and sorting and cleaning and gathering I went and whacked my head on a kitchen cupboard and suffered what felt to me like a solid and real concussion. It wasn’t a bump, people. I was bending over, digging out the muffin tin for some blueberry muffins for dinner and the oven buzzer went off and the phone rang and up I went, and slam! Head met corner of cupboard door. Bolt of lightning. I went down. And cried like a child who fell off the monkey bars.
Listened to the show Saturday and it was not bad. Listened from the family cabin where we’d gathered for the weekend, a good number of us, and there was rain most all the time we were together and it was a bit chilly in the night. Instead of swimming and basking in the sun and making S’mores and taking long long walks as the sun set, we spent a good deal of time playing Scrabble and watching old movies and we did manage a boat ride, but mostly we cooked and ate and sat around together talking and telling stories. All kinds of stories about when we were kids and fishing stories and stories about funny things we’ve done when we’re alone and family stories and dream stories about what we wish for and what might be. It’s been that way, when we all get together. All those stories.