October 2nd, 2012

bazille_summer scene


October is mocking me with heat. Mocktober! The large dog who has escaped his yard does not appear especially pleased with his freedom, but pads and pants slowly along the street, tongue lolling. The slightest of breezes stirs the mulberry leaves, but they move barely more than does the dog's tongue. Where unshaded, the street glares, and where the leaves shade the street they show the glare themselves, and above all the sky glares even more.

A fly has taken refuge in my house, and when I open a window screen to let it out, the fly recoils back into the relative coolness of the room. The cats are all sleeping. I feel like joining them in the oblivion of a nap, but I don't want to wake to evening darkness yet again. The watermelon is all gone. Perhaps I'll make iced tea, and perhaps it will help keep me awake through this soporific afternoon.

A white bit of fluff drifts across my yard, carrying the seed of some plant. Now there's a thing that likes the heat. I'll imagine I'm floating with it, off to some spot where I'll bury my feet in a cool bit of damp soil. There, that's better.