Living Late Summer
Here's to settling into late summer:
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Harvests, school sessions, football games, wrapping up work projects, starting others. It all feels good and bold and energizing. There's so much that life has to offer, I don't want to miss any of it. Such a broad statement that is! Too broad, I realize. Maybe better: I want to know all of what life has to offer to me. Life with my name on it.
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On a blank page, I write. Words fall as they come to mind. I gather images that speak what words cannot. A collection. This is what I'm trying to say. This is what I didn't know to articulate. Here it is. Vision. I'm learning about this. It's not stiff and stuffy, beginning with a hard capital V and wearing epaulettes at its shoulders, a belt at its waist, and black, polished shoes. No. Vision is gentle and deep, approachable and welcoming. Thankfully, entirely different that what I'd thought.
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Yardage of linen, a length of hand-died cotton, a coil of brass zipper chain. Pale rose-colored yarn. Paper, pencil, drafting board, rulers, erasers. Things for making things. All of them part of life, part of work, part of me.
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Eating summer. Cabbage, pulled from the garden, chopped with kale and chard, tossed with green onion and dill, dressed with shiitake sesame, topped with roasted sunflower seeds, served along cold, grilled salmon. A dish of sliced peaches with a drizzle of cream. Eating all of summer while I can.
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And you? How are you holding these late summer days?
