sunday morning dishes in the sink.
where they will stay all day.
i am camera-less this weekend, and with that, never minding that i've taken so few pictures for months, i suddenly feel the need to take pictures, and so finally, at long last, way-overdue-i-know, i have found my way to instagram. it may work for the small moments, of which i have many. the cat is flying yowling about the house, wanting me to play, there is laundry to be done, the house could not be any messier, i am out of paper towels, i still need to shower, and outside the day is too wonderful to ignore. life feels just fine.
friday night a neighbor wandered up with a bottle of 6 dollar wine and katie, he, and i stood in the front yard and talked until the bottle was empty and he was pointing out the moon to us. everything in moderation, we said, except standing under a soon-to-be-summer sky, except for the stars, except for the honeysuckle lighting the night behind us.
i am a storyteller, you know, not a poet. unless, of course, the story requires it.