The days this week have been mostly clear and it’s been so nice to sit on the front deck or back patio and feel the sun slowly melt into my bones.
This past weekend we went to the Saturday Market for the first time since moving back. It brought back a lot of memories of years past, of little T always wanting shaved ice, of flowers and farms, of so many good things.
Also last weekend, we took a long drive down south to a couple of lakes that we had only been to once before, years ago. They were beautiful. We found a short trail through the woods that took us to the edge of one of the lakes and spent some time exploring the shoreline. Most of the trails we loved to hike here were destroyed in last summer’s wildfires and we are having (getting) to find new areas to explore.
Last evening I went with my husband to one of his fishing spots just as the sun was starting to lower in the sky but everything was still bright and golden. I went, camera in hand, to see what was around each turn in the clearing or behind the next stand of trees. I gazed into the pond water, observing soft, swaying green pillars of algae reaching for the surface (which made me think of Frank Lloyd Wright and the Great Workroom of the Johnson Wax building). I watched the concentric circles made by the fishing bobber radiate outward until they bumped up along the shore.
I melted into the landscape under the warm evening sun, reflections sparkling in my eyes, birdsong filling my ears.
☼
slow notes:
This by Kerri ní Dochartaigh.
This beautiful film by Lynn Tomlinson.
This about Spotted Towhees.
Can’t wait to hear and see more about this. Ancient Egypt is endlessly fascinating.
This about forests, folktales, and imagination.
I wish for you a weekend of birdsong and sunshine.