rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Long Evening

I woke with a cat licking my hair. Presumably, she had finished cleaning her ass and still had some spit left. Now I have an itchy red welt on my head, right behind my ear. Cat allergy.

The kid on the corner has a go-kart, which he is riding up and down the block in the balmy evening. Thus far, he has failed to injure or kill anyone with it, nor have the police arrested him for illegally operating a motor vehicle (he's thirteen.) I'm beginning to think that he and I are the only people on the block who aren't deaf. If he keeps riding the thing, he soon will be. I really need to get those new headphones.

Another storm is expected over the weekend, but for now the weather is quite splendidly spring-like. The insects have returned. Bees spent the afternoon buzzing around the profusion of purple blossoms which have sprung from the sourgrass, and about half of the reedy stalks of the lily plants are flaunting crumply white blossoms. And, of course, the mulberry tree is again emitting smoke-like puffs of pollen.

To my surprise, a bevy of quail entered the back yard to feed, this afternoon. Before the cats moved in, quail were a daily sight here throughout the spring. Now that the aging felines are spending most of each day napping indoors, I suppose it is safe for the quail to return. Still, I hope they exercise caution, particularly once they have chicks. The four I saw today were all adults. Both cats and hawks can make short work of baby quail, and I've seen both stray cats and a few hawks about the neighborhood recently.

The long evening is nice, in spite of the mechanized racket. In a few weeks the lingering spring twilight will be scented with the perfume of night blooming jasmine. It will be time for making iced tea again, and sipping it under the rustling young leaves of the mulberry tree as the light fades in the west and the crickets chirp in the bushes. Those are the best evenings of the year.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 2 comments