Sunday, July 22, 2007
I came in from the backyard when the sky was strawberry shortcake pink. My husband was watching TV.
"The sunset is gorgeous," I said.
"I can see it out the window, " he said.
"I'm going for a walk. It's too beautiful to miss."
I headed across the street, down Cobblestone Lane. No cobblestones, just macadam against my bare feet. It's a cul de sac, a half-mile down, a half-mile back. I measured once.
The sky quickly became blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream, like the juice left on your plate after a sweet summer dessert.
I walked past the place I call "milkweed heaven" where I'd reveled in the monarch's delight this morning. Where are the monarchs now? Fluttery moths and some strange red beetles with antennae had replaced them.
Kids were not quite asleep, and I heard family noises in the houses I passed. Why do the mothers sound so harsh? I'm the soft voice in my house.
The moon was half, and I was glad that the other half, although in shadow, was still there. In the "olden" days did they know that? They thought a dragon ate it. It looks like it would be a tangy mint flavor, not cheese.
A woman was walking toward me. I could tell she was "exercising" by the swing of her arms. I was sauntering, inhaling the moon.
"Hi," she said.
"How are you?" I responded.
I won't recognize her in the sunlight, but I liked her perfume.
The cricket stopped chirping when I passed, then resumed, like he had when I passed his spot earlier. I'm glad he's cautious, but I'd never hurt him. I wish he could sense that, and keep singing for me.
Back home, my husband looked up.
"It's so much better in real life than out the window," I said. Do you want a sandwich? Tuna fish?"
"With celery," he said.
Belly up to the bar~