Sunday, July 27, 2025, 55.5*, 0659
Perhaps it left by 11 last night. I didn’t go outside. I had no desire to walk around looking for the thing I couldn’t see, the thing I could only react to. I didn’t even know about it until a friend mentioned there was an alert, urged me to be careful. It felt like someone choking me...the result of smoke coming into Maine, the result of air higher in particulates than originally expected. I wonder if it was the same for the three who didn’t want to stay outside; didn’t want to play. Although the air quality is poor this morning (it’s usually fair, seldom excellent) standing on the deck causes no discomfort. Four birds cast their voices in all directions.
I watched when evening came, watched my son dig holes, plant two blueberry, two raspberry bushes he had surprised me with earlier. I had seen that joy in his eyes Christmases past as a child opening presents. He refused gloves, came away with at least two barbs no longer protecting red treasure.
We sat in the “midnight” chairs I thought were black when ordering, (blue leaning toward purple), feeding mosquitoes, swatting, swapping histories of days separated, surprised to hear myself say, “please light a cigarette.” We should’ve gone inside or at least to the deck and lit the torches.
Berries or blood. All things require sustenance.
Photo: LJ Austin
