Wednesday, July 16, 2025, 65.8* 0718
Small dew drops remain in places where the sun has not drunk. Seven birds. Nature has colored the Cardinal and the Red Crossbill with different red crayons. Nature had something to do with the frothy green that is not grass atop the pond. I sip coffee from a primary blue cup.
Waking me several times last night, this deer fly bite seems immune to cortisone soothing as if an invisible deer fly continues biting. Not nice! My dad would’ve torn open a cigarette – Lucky Strikes, 25 cents a pack; removed tobacco, spit on it, put it on the bite as he did the day I played softball with my brother and sister, third base too close to the Rose of Sharon tangling a honeybee in flying blonde hair.
Weeds thrived while the parched vegetable garden begged water. She ventured into the heat, her dog refusing to accompany. She was only going out for a while with a fan around her neck. I don’t know if she wore a hat. Probably not. Hats force heat to return to the body. I don’t know if she wore gloves or how she was clothed. Husband not feeling well--I’m not sure he knew she had gone or where to begin looking when he finally missed her. She worked in the rock garden. It was not until she began rearranging hoses turning on water that she understood why the dog stayed inside. Unlike stories of Lassie, there would be no rescue. She lay in the shade of a spruce tree, switched the fan to high. She only thought about calling her husband. Probably for the best--she would have panicked to discover she had lost her phone. Through hundreds of miles these words squeezed my heart. Thank goodness the words were typed by the woman who lay in the shade of a spruce tree to cool her body, to find the energy to stagger home.
Dogs innately know the hidden truths of weather.
Art: LJ Austin "For all the Blessings"
