rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,

Last Mildness of June

Late last night I heard the rumble of distant thunder, but saw no lightning, and as far as I know there have been no new fires as a result of any lightning we might have gotten. The local fire that began yesterday morning is still holding at 40 acres, and is reportedly 75% contained. I haven't smelled it today. The mild temperatures have probably made suppressing this fire a bit easier than it otherwise would have been. Any fires that start late next week will have a fierce sun in their corner. The solstice will be this Thursday, and a 100 degree day is possible by Saturday.

Shopping didn't take long today, but it was because I'm running low on cash and so bought a minimum of stuff. I'm saving for the fire insurance due in August, and I'me expecting it to go up this year, maybe a lot. The insurance companies will want to recoup some of the money they paid out due to all the losses in wildfires last year, so they will soak everyone in California, even those of us who aren't insured against wildfires. That's the way insurance companies work.

After checking my calendar I discovered that I do have an appointment with the chiropractor on Tuesday. I had though it wasn't for a couple of weeks yet, and I'm very glad to discover I was wrong (and also unhappy to discover that my memory and my awareness of the passage of time are getting so bad.) The last couple of days my neck has let me know it is quite ready for an adjustment, though, so this is one of those occasions when I'll just be grateful that the deterioration of my brain brought me a pleasant surprise.

But then while I was being grateful I totally forgot the next thing I'd intended to say. Oh, wait. It's that it's going to get pretty chilly tonight. I already had to put on a hoodie when I went out to check the feral cats' water bowls a few minutes ago. I wouldn't be surprised if the furnace came on before dawn. But I am enjoying the brief return to cool weather. Next week's heat wave is bound to make me me nostalgic for winter. Then I'll get through the misery it brings by recalling how nostalgic for summer winter makes me.

Sunday Verse


by Gary Soto

The first time I walked
With a girl, I was twelve,
Cold, and weighted down
With two oranges in my jacket.
December. Frost cracking
Beneath my steps, my breath
Before me, then gone,
As I walked toward
Her house, the one whose
Porch light burned yellow
Night and day, in any weather.
A dog barked at me, until
She came out pulling
At her gloves, face bright
With rouge. I smiled,
Touched her shoulder, and led
Her down the street, across
A used car lot and a line
Of newly planted trees,
Until we were breathing
Before a drugstore. We
Entered, the tiny bell
Bringing a saleslady
Down a narrow aisle of goods.
I turned to the candies
Tiered like bleachers,
And asked what she wanted -
Light in her eyes, a smile
Starting at the corners
Of her mouth. I fingered
A nickle in my pocket,
And when she lifted a chocolate
That cost a dime,
I didn't say anything.
I took the nickle from
My pocket, then an orange,
And set them quietly on
The counter. When I looked up,
The lady's eyes met mine,
And held them, knowing
Very well what it was all

A few cars hissing past,
Fog hanging like old
Coats between the trees.
I took my girl's hand
In mine for two blocks,
Then released it to let
Her unwrap the chocolate.
I peeled my orange
That was so bright against
The gray of December
That, from some distance,
Someone might have thought
I was making a fire in my hands.

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