Saturday, July 02, 2005

When summer suspends time


Today's weather report: Two steps from heaven. It is one of those days in which the Sun warms the air enough to sweat, but just a little. In which a light breeze ruffles the maple. In which a bird's song carries and a sweatshirt on the line dries in less than an hour.

I drifted off after a Corona at lunch, my feet propped on the picnic table. I drifted off again in the hammock at 5:30 after turning a few pages of a book. Today Washington is mobilized and exorcized over the search for a new Supreme Court justice. It is a big deal. But I've got other things on my mind; I am immobilized by summer, bewitched by the patterns and play of light on the bike path, busy with more mundane tasks. We cut down four of five saplings before the line along our property becomes a tree farm. I mowed the lawn. OK, I mowed half the lawn. We biked to Bedford and dawdled through back streets we haven't biked on before. And then there was that beer and a chance to catch up on a school year of nights shortened by too many papers to grade.

I'd like to tell you more but we just put up the hammock this afternoon. The coals are on for hot dogs and hamburgers. Kathy's making corn on the cob. And I shouldn't be wasting a minute more on the Internet. That's for damn sure.


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