At my house, if I choose to sit on the front steps, there are musicians across the street playing Old-Timey American music, anticipating Fiddle Tunes at Centrum, which begins Sunday. Not a bad choice.
In the back of my house, on my balcony, there's a view of the lake and rooftops and mountains, and two giant green parakeets just tweeted (not twittered!) by; and a little boy is running back and forth in the alley, carrying one very long stick. Chanting from the Kollel. (This is where I sit.)
There's a clarity of light whichever location I choose -- these are the spectacular temperate days of summer that we enjoy here in Seattle. Little humidity; it's 70 degrees at 7:33pm, and barely a breeze ripples the grape vines.
My son is cooking a salmon filet, my vodka-tonic is due for refreshing, and I'm trying hard to turn in this new direction away from Mr. Soon-To-Be-Deleted, attempting to delete him from memory. If only I could backspace him from my consciousness....
The plans for the funeral trudge, stuck in the thickest of muds. Death makes people fall down, and someone to whom I'm close has fallen down and calls me in the falling-down state, which is difficult. Patience. Someone has a date with the Grim Reaper. (Not me!) (Or, rather, we all do, but just won't look at that day on the calendar.) Some of us egg the Grim Reaper on, taunt him, dare him. (Or is the Grim Reaper female?)
In any case, all plans are up in the air. What I do know is that, in spite of one of the coldest springs on record, my tomato plants have tiny green fruits beginning to swell, and my pumpkin plants, though tiny, have indeed sprouted. A painter is going to schedule some work next week, which will clean up a lot. My dearest of friends Tom has been doing odd jobs for me, and wants payment only in home-cooked meals. The problem there is that I seem to have lost all interest in cooking, which, while it contributes to a reduction in the waistline, doesn't exactly lead to sumptuous feasts.
The kitten continues to delight and amaze. Even when I resolutely Do Not Want To Laugh, she coaxes a giant guffaw from me, unquestionably goofy and cheerful. How did I manage to happen upon this marvelous creature? I am blessed.