Brushing my teeth this morning, sunshine beaming through the skylight over my head as I contemplate the prospect of another heat-filled day. Brushing, brushing, making my plans on which tasks I can safely do down the mountain before it gets too hot for the dogs to be in the car, I glance out the bathroom window.
The window is huge, as are most of the windows in my goldfish bowl of a house. I don't mind this one as it's the only one in the bathroom--besides the skylight--so it's always bright, and the vista is always changing.
Partial view, with my prayer flags waving in the breeze...
Underneath the tree (on the right in the photo above) is the birdbath. This lovely pair of mourning doves were drying off after their morning ablutions...
Further along the fence, this handsome bluebird was patiently waiting his turn. Some days I have to refill the water three times just to keep up with the bathers. Who knew birds were so hygienic? Maybe I should just get another birdbath...
From another window--steps leading up to the deck--looking over part of the backyard and the infamous slope I am trying to turn in my wildflower habitat. California poppies and self-seeding snapdragons at the forefront. The bare ground behind them is where I scattered and raked the seeds that I fervently hope will sprout, saving me endless toil with the weeds...
The poppies. And I don't care that some people consider them invasive weeds. They last all Summer and are beautiful golden drops of color...what more can you ask for in a wildflower?
For the weekend, I've got a couple of new books to read, my thing for this week's 52s has been tentatively decided upon, and I have to get back to the serial since I've left that hanging for a bit longer than I thought--because I changed my mind about something, which in turn changed the whole frigging installment I expected to post last week.
So, I might be too hot, think the weather is totally off the hook weird, but as long as I'm not out on that blasted slope pulling weeds and having a meltdown...well, hey, life is good.
Last night the sunset looked like a watercolor painting. There were drifts of yellow, streaks of vibrant orange, tints of red, all blending into a breathtaking mélange against the deep shadows of the mountain range.
After watering the back garden, I sat outside, watching the light fade, the colors change, and reveled in the cool breeze. Yes, the cool breeze. The heat is finally beginning to dissipate a little at night, and the daytime temps have dropped about 15 degrees, though it's still too humid, and by late afternoon I'm in a sweat of misery...as are the boys. The Sun has become my nemesis: hateful, dreaded, always lurking, waiting to spear my eyes, burn my skin, fry my brain; a rabid monkey on my back that I can't shake.
This too shall pass. A mantra I have chanted over the years, in many situations. And though it's true--nothing stays the same--sometimes it's very hard not to squirm with impatience, wish for time to speed up, wonder when this too shall pass. I know that Fall follows Summer, it's a given, no matter what's happening around us, to us, because of us.
By this time next month I'm hoping for goosebumps whilst walking the dogs in my Hawaiian shirt, happy in the realization that it's finally time to shift them to the back of the closet for another year. I will wait, and smile with anticipation, for the first morning I reach for a hoodie because of the Fall chill in the air. I'm going to relish the joy of planning, and making, a big pot of Irish stew, the dogs underfoot as they recognize the smells wafting around the kitchen. They love my stew.
But, until then...
This morning the birds were at the bath, as they are most mornings. It made me smile to watch them, lined up in the tree, waiting their turn. I put three large rocks in the water, to give them a perch, and to help the smaller birds get drinks without drowning.
And since I will miss this morning ritual of the birds, when the air cools and the water in the bath ices over, I'm going to just enjoy each moment.
Because this too shall pass.
