#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Tree on the way to the Pond

Warmer even today. Windows open to fresh air. I have a date for a phone conversation with a friend, so I go out early with Charlie. Muggy already, and pleasantly cloudy. I decide to do a walk to the dock for a swim instead of waiting for mid-day. The trees are full of color and splendor; it’s a sensational experience to feel the colors of these woods: the golden ferns, the green and scarlet meadow grass. So much light. We talk and talk across the miles. And then I am at the pond so we hang up and I dive right into the pleasant, zippy chill. I swim stead and strong around the island. I am the sole human in the pond. The beach is vacant. No boats, no paddleboarders. No geese, no cormorants. No swimmers in wet suits even. Yet, I have a sense that Charlie has followed me, and turn around. Yes, he’s with me, safe and sound. We stay near the shallow water of the island. The surface is fresh and sweet and unripped. It’s quiet and exhilarating. It’s fun to have Charlie beside me, swimming along back to shore, just the two of us. Then, I resume my phone call and we walk through the bright woods home, not in the least cold. This morning, before I walk, I write my weekly Aim for Astonishing prompt and send it out. And I work on revising a garden poem. Hmmm. I was more satisfied before I started revising. I put it away. We are preparing for big events here. We take the new car seat out of the box. My younger daughter comes home and urges me to join her in her sister’s garden, where she wants to pick the last of the tomatoes. I join her, and end up cleaning up the garden, putting away all the rakes and hoes and shovels and organizing the gardening shed and feel happy to be doing this clean up for the gardener who has now other preoccupations. Only the sunflowers are unpicked. We let them stand in the sun; we can see them from the house.