“Do you know," Peter asked, "why swallows build in the eaves of houses? It is to listen to the stories.” ~ J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan


everyday sunday. summer, day 8. throwing out the past.

i wasn't going to post a word today, but suddenly i looked up from the book i was reading and today was turning into this evening, and the sun was striping the grass across the street, and sometimes that's all it takes.  the humidity fogs my lenses, though today we've had no rain.  the sun is falling out there to my left; i climbed katie's stairs halfway up to peep through the pear and cherry laurel trees. the birds are singing and i hear what i think are grasshoppers.  the cicadas will be along any moment.


i am six months behind on my new year's cleaning - in truth, three years and six months, so much not done since my mother's death - and it took a small bit of flooding the house to push me. on thursday evening, i stood close to the finish line, the air outside soft, unusually cool for this time of year, and full of cicadas and honeysuckle.  earlier i'd thrown two pieces of pottery into the creek, hard, breaking the ties of old friendships, the sound of endings the same as green apple cores tossed into the same creek, muffled, delicious.  i read old calendars, the ones i once used as diaries, all the pages past march always left empty, and i threw out the words no longer needed.

friday afternoon, two days into another four day weekend, and the floors were scattered with tools and old photographs.  outside, come-and-go rain came and went with a vengeance but no lightning - gray skies and green green green landscapes.  i hauled stuff to the jeep and let it rain on both me and the stuff.  the trashcan is piled to the tippy top. anything still good enough to be used, stuff i can't use at the business, i piled on the curb - baskets and fake easter eggs, a dish shaped like a crescent moon, a treasure chest once filled with christmas goodies - it was all gone within minutes.

sex and the city was on the television, sound on, the perfect background music; an old favorite song. i took breaks and plopped on the couch, watching here and there - during commercials i would read; i am two books into tuscany and its sunshine.  a break from italy, and i'd go through old files, tossing insurance forms for cars i haven't owned in twenty years, keeping almost nothing. i have new white file folders, replacing the old blue ones, which are now bound for the business to replace the old old red and yellow ones.

and then thunder.  a sleeping cat.  carrie moved to paris with the russian and frances mayes built an outdoor oven for her new mountain house.  the cat stayed sleeping and i read.


sunday.  sunshine this morning, though i didn't trust it.  i was out and about yesterday and it rained from blue skies and i needed sunglasses.  but today it fooled me and shone in every window all day. i have been slapping mosquitoes and catching up on laundry; breakfast was lasagne with cherries for dessert.  we don't have dessert with breakfast enough, if at all, and we should.

supper tonight will be a grapefruit, cold from the refrigerator, sugar sprinkled, serenaded by the now here cicadas.  life grows simple when i toss out the leftovers.


1 comment:

  1. that discarding always feels so good... I spent much of last year doing it, and I am ready to start again, get rid of MORE stuff.
    being forced to do it is no fun, but sometimes i feel like things happen when they happen for a reason, and maybe you needed that kind of weekend, one that would leave you feeling just a bit lighter at the end.
    and dessert with breakfast should happen every day.



come. sit under the emma tree & let's talk. i have cookies . . .