#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream
“. . .Our skies are inventions, durations, discoveries, quotas, forgeries, fine and grand. Fine and grand. Fresh and bright. Heavenly and bright. The day pours out space, a light red roominess, bright and fresh. Bright and oft. Bright and fresh. Sparkling and wet. Clamour and tint. We range the spacious fields, a battlement trick and fast. Bright and silver. Ribbons and failings. To and fro. Fine and grand. . .”
~Excerpt from “Monday,” by Lisa Robertson
A guest lingers. My nephew. I make him coffee and breakfast, cheerfully, before walking. The party is over, it has left a happy exhaustion. It’s wet and warm, the river is high. Charlie startles the heron from our landing. Suzi decides she doesn’t want the long walk, turns back. At the edge of the yard, emerging from pine needles, I see the closed eye of the clay figure. Strange. Where did this come from? I don’t recognize it at all. Seems like it was some sort of clay pot or ornament. But I cross this patch of ground to get on the path frequently. Never have seen it before. Yet, it’s impossible that I should have missed seeing it. I let the mystery by the mystery, and Charlie and I go off for a long wander into the meadow, a lovely walk, I’m tired and happy. The milkweed is stunning. I have a catch up day ahead; I have been busy straight through the past few days. Now, by the end of this day, I’ve been busy and productive. Still, I want to have done more. Never mind. Tonight I get the loveliest e-mail from a neighbor/friend about honey. She and her husband are beekeepers, and this year, their harvest of local honey will yield. She writes:
“Harvesting has been a time consuming process, scratching open each frame of honey by hand, placing it in a centrifuge spinner, allowing it to settle for days, and triple straining it before bottling, corking and labeling it. We love it!. . . Given that many of you are neighbors, know that bees travel around two miles, and therefore likely visited your beautiful gardens.”
Without hesitation, I place my order.
Clay figure under the pine needles at the edge of the yard
