Where did the season go? It’s been a laid back, slow summer with flusters of activity on weekends when Rich is in town from his consulting job in Nebraska. While he’s gone, I make a lot in the studio, watch a lot on tv at night, but rarely do much around the house.
When he is back, we go to the dog park, do yard work, I cook a bit, we sit in the gazebo in the evening for a glass of wine and watch hens scratch for worms. Now, you might not think chicken watching sounds like much, but after a day of hard work (Rich does most of that, he works all week then drives three hours home to work all weekend), it’s very peaceful to sit in a shady spot and watch the various hierarchies in the flock play out. There is usually some drama, as well as some sister bonding time between them.
One weekend, Rich picked a couple sinkfuls of our apples, we peeled and cooked them up to freeze. I have enough for pies on the major holidays for the upcoming year. We have more on the tree, and might tackle them this week.
After Rich climbed back into the truck and headed back north, I noticed there were pears in another tree. So I pulled the ladder out and picked the ones I could reach. After getting the easiest ones, I stared up, wondering how I could get more. They are big, solid, and perfect so I didn’t want to miss any.
I tried pulling a branch down toward me, but with my rotator cuff tear along with a fear of heights, I didn’t get far in shaking any free. So I looked up and contemplated it some more.
My branch wiggling must’ve loosened one, because as I stared upwards, one giant, unripe, hard as a brick pear fell from way, way up at the top of the tree, right onto my upturned nose.
With my history of head knocks and concussions, my first thought was, well, here I go again. But nope, besides having an extremely sore face and a mild bruise, I was fine. As a clumsy person prone to accidents, I was pretty proud of the fact that I stayed on the ladder, didn’t get a black eye, nothing broke.
But the other pears are still up in the tree. Mocking me with their deliciousness, taunting me to try again.
I'm not falling for it. I know I was dang lucky to stay on the ladder last time.
The weather for August has been remarkable. I have rarely turned the air conditioner on at all. In the evenings, my cottage in the elm and mulberry trees has a nice breeze blowing through the screens. During the day, my studio seems to mostly stay cool on it’s on. It’s felt more like late September, early October than summery temps.
Weirdly, I feel like this summer just melted away from me somehow, and now all of a sudden it’s gone. Maybe it has to do with selling the boat? No trips out on the lake after 29 years out there? I do not feel like I missed boating, but I guess it did define our seasons.
Maybe it’s grief? I miss my sister, and our calls. She lived a few states away, but we were always in contact. I’m grieving for her, still grieving for my boy. Summer is slipping away, seasons pass, but my heart doesn’t heal.
Well, death is part of life, I go on, I stay busy, I appreciate what I have and what beauty each season brings. What I can create. And the people I have in my life. But that grief is always there.
Today would’ve been my sister’s birthday. But I miss her everyday.
This side is full of sparkly crows wearing crowns.
