It’s cool enough for a light sweater this morning, so I wrap my robe around me, not caring who might see. I’m just giddy for the opportunity to feel chilled, then clothed. Twenty-two summers later, and I still despise Arkansas heat. This Yankee would never survive a mile further south. My blood runs hot and is about the only thing unsuited for this area.
Last night I pulled weeds along the garden edge by the light of a fire. First fire since the heat wave showed up. The smell of wood burning is probably one of my very favorites. Sometimes I’ll throw a scrap of cedar in there just for the aroma. I decided to water the garden late because of a full day ahead.
I had a moment when I was showering the sunflowers from above, making the biggest rainbow of water I could with my thumb over the hose. They stand well beyond reach by now, and I imagined they might enjoy their heads washed. Then, for a mere 10 seconds, the view was serendipitous: the water cascading down these gentle giants; the crackle and flicker of flames; the clear starry night as the backdrop. I felt myself smile wide and I held it there, unintentionally. Just simple and perfect pleasure. Then suddenly, a shooting star. Right in my line of sight. It was like a movie. It was the most incredible handful of seconds. I felt like God winked at me right then. I winked back, just in case. Such a different sonnet than my panicked morning. A lullaby. A tucking in. Put my heart right to rest.
