The early summer heat unravels me. I try to tend the garden, but by late morning the hydrangeas look dead. Only the cooler evening air will revive them. For good measure I am going to water them longer tonight.
I hope for rain, but there are no clouds.
The midday heat hangs heavy over the garden, the house sits quietly.
There are no sounds.
It's the year of the chipmunks, I watch them play among the flowers and bushes. They are allover the garden this year.
And oblivious to me watching them.
Later in the afternoon the sky begins to look a bit bluish gray.
And then gets solid, there is no blue left. More rumbling above.
I move outside and sit under the umbrella on the small stone patio behind the house and begin to write. I love how it has cooled enough to enjoy the garden. I feel the wind caressing my bare arms and neck, the sweat under my hair begins to dry. It darkens more and the dog slowly walks over and stretches out next to me. He looks at me warily. The changes of weather make him always uneasy. I weigh the options for rain.
The happy sounds of the two little girls next door carry over the fence and make me smile.
I feel the rustling of the wind in the trees around me.
My hope rises.
Birds begin to twitter again, but the swallows fly high in the sky. Too high for showers.
An airplane crosses above. I can't see it but hear the faint rumble of the breaking sound barrier.
Another stir and gust of wind, stronger now. But looking up into the sky all I see is the reemerging sunshine behind the trees, westwards over the Hudson.
It has blown over, no rain yet!
All images by V.Zlotkowski.
