On Monday, the wicked heat lifted. The sky became a bright blue after dawn. The morning was bright and cool for June, in the south. It was the kind of morning that made you want to forget housekeeping, altogether and abide outside instead.
We all rose early enough, to spend a few minutes on the front porch, before Will left for work. The laughing river was blue as ever and sparkled in the morning light. The sidewalk was busy with people walking dogs and plenty went by on bikes. There was an older couple who walked holding hands. All had a greeting or a kind word to share with us folks on the porch.
Lyla wakes up smiling and hugs us all”good morning”. After breakfast, Lyla and and I went to the the little playground, just a short walk from Jennys’ house. The park is set by the rivers’ edge. Usually, there are geese grazing in the shade. We were the only ones there yesterday. Lyla took full advantage of that. It was not for long, though, as the sun warmed the slide and everything else up quickly. For a while, we watched the cars on the bridge. We watched clouds, too. One looked like an angry troll with horns, lying in wait for the only child on the playground, but right before our eyes, it then became a lamb with a sweet expression. As I sat there watching clouds and geese, I thought, that life had some grand moments. Lyla got hungry, otherwise, we may have stayed all day.
After lunch, Jenny, Lyla and I ran a few errands. It was Jennys, friend, Michelles’ birthday and so we bought the ingredients for a key lime cheesecake. We bought strawberries for a neighbor. When we got home, I washed the berries and Lyla ate quite a few. I put some in a basket, for Miss Thelma and Jenny dressed Lyla up for the visit. What a cute picture Lyla made with a basket of strawberries and a pony tail. Miss Thelma is in her nineties and is ” as sweet as pie”. Lyla was fine til, I asked her to present her gift to Miss Thelma. Lyla, had apparently became quite attached to the basket and said “No!” followed by “Mine!” Oh goodness, how I tried to convince her that sharing was good. I even brought God in to it-however, Lyla was not feeling very Christian, at the moment. Miss Thelma was gracious and kind. When I finally pried the basket from Lylas’ hand, Miss Thelma made good time to dump the berries in a bowl in the kitchen. She returned with a stuffed frog in the basket. Lyla wailed at the sight of a frog in her basket, instead of the strawberries. I could not get away fast enough. To say, it was harrowing, is an understatement. Lyla walked in the door at Jennys’ with a long unintelligible explanation, that I think may have been “Honeybee is hateful.”
Lyla soon recovered-and so did I. Later we had a light supper. Michelle and her family came over for dessert. Michelle and Danny have two boys. I watched them oh, so carefully catch lightening bugs and then quickly release them.
The night before, we had all taken a walk at dusk. We saw a small colony of bats come out of a chimney. Lyla and the boys were quite impressed at the sight-so was I. It had been a long time since I had seen such an event. The adults talked about all of the horrible and unjust myths about bats. I agreed with every word. . .until one flew right at me. Just before contact, he darted off, as if nothing had happened. I was shattered and decided maybe bats will “make a nest in your hair” after all.
The boys splashed in every puddle and walked along the shore of the river. Lyla was content to watch-and so was I. I picked her a mimosa blossom and we smelled the white crepe myrtles. The blossoms of the white variety, smell like clean cotton.
Jenny said Lyla fell asleep, while she was putting her pajamas on her. Jenny and I stayed up and actually watched a movie. We chose “Lion” , which is based on a true story.
Dear Diary, Especially in summer, I am determined not to be rushed. I do not want to miss clouds that turn into lambs. Summer is a time to imagine what seems impossible-and I am glad for that. Every firefly matters to me and so do the diamonds on the river. I am glad for hours that meander without haste . . .and strawberries.