Steam rises while the sun pounds on the broad face of the valley, people walking around with their faces all screwed against the light looking like they've smelled something rancid. The trees all slumber with wilted leaves, the road turns into a mirror. The green grass flops and that cooked vegetable and hot asphalt smell hangs heavy in the air. I didn't run through the sprinkler. Instead I stood and let the cold water shower on me in the shade of the neighbor's catalpa tree. Not a breath of air. Spider weather, webs everywhere inside and outside. I walked through a doorway and a small orange weaver dangled from my chin, invisible thread sticking to my bare sweaty arms.
We had a yard sale and when I was a little girl I thought that meant someone was trying to sell a portion of their yard. S took a big leftover "that's not going back in the garage" load of books and knick-knack bric-a-brac how-did-this-get-in-our-house-crap to the goodwill and homeless shelter this morning. We made almost $100 selling a lot of stuff we didn't need including 6 broken chairs and some lady is interested in our little fridge to use for brewing beer. She said she'd call. I won't hold my breath.
In the heat of the day I caught a dog out on the street, a pretty skinny skittish scared thing with a new collar and I figured she was someone's baby who somehow escaped. She had long but wiry golden hair and her ribs were sticking out and she had her back all hunched up because she was scared. She tried to twist away from me but I didn't let go, and I took her inside for some water and a small handful of food. S helped me isolate her in a corner of the dog yard under much barking protest from our two dogs, and we gave her food and water and put an umbrella up for her. In the evening her owner put up a poster on the street sign post less than 100 feet from the dog, so S called and Molly got to go home.
After the yard sale we went to a garden party (just the term "garden party" sounds so pretentious but that's what it was, complete with acoustic guitar and goat cheese and damn good wine); some friends of friends are landscape artiste-architects and have completely transformed a dumpy lawn into an interesting space, using concrete block walls and corrugated tin and hog wire and a giant cattle trough with koi and water plants. It is austere and artful; something like a Japanese garden with the ferns and delicate maples and all the big slabs of rock. There is even a four-foot tall stacked-rock sphere a la Andy Goldsworthy in an eye-catching spot of the yard. S said the total effect is Jeffersonian in strict design but with an industrialized twist. Very modern. If it were mine it would be overwhelmed by weeds in two weeks.
When we first arrived, our hostess grabbed me and requested I call my girl JJ, who was supposed to help out with serving food & washing dishes but who left when Tebone arrived. I shut myself into a small room with a big map on the wall and talked to her for an hour. Some things are more important than socializing.
JJ said she said some embarrassing things after the last show on Thursday night, had made herself feel a fool, and Tebone was resolute in denying her the love she wishes were mutual. I told her I think really and truly she needs time away from him. Maybe someday they can be just friends like he wants them to be but not right now, right now her heart is big and sore and it hurts. I can't imagine the strength she has displayed over the past month, dealing not only with a broken heart and a new job and an unexpected move and a car accident but also with performing all those heartbreak songs on a stage with the man who broke it. Most amazing is she doesn't embark on the whole pity-poor-me route; I think if I were in her shoes I would have crawled into bed and stayed there indefinitely.
I also mentioned she should consider cancelling the last two performances scheduled in Portland next month, since she's so miserable and jangled and feels like drinking and then says things she regrets when she's around him. She needs time to heal her heart. She cancelled and he's furious but she said it was a huge weight off her shoulders. And we made plans to go backpacking that weekend in the mountains to a high little cauldron lake, clear and cold and towering trees casting long shadows across the still and deep water, and I can't wait to see the stars. It will be good to go, for all of us.
We had a yard sale and when I was a little girl I thought that meant someone was trying to sell a portion of their yard. S took a big leftover "that's not going back in the garage" load of books and knick-knack bric-a-brac how-did-this-get-in-our-house-crap to the goodwill and homeless shelter this morning. We made almost $100 selling a lot of stuff we didn't need including 6 broken chairs and some lady is interested in our little fridge to use for brewing beer. She said she'd call. I won't hold my breath.
In the heat of the day I caught a dog out on the street, a pretty skinny skittish scared thing with a new collar and I figured she was someone's baby who somehow escaped. She had long but wiry golden hair and her ribs were sticking out and she had her back all hunched up because she was scared. She tried to twist away from me but I didn't let go, and I took her inside for some water and a small handful of food. S helped me isolate her in a corner of the dog yard under much barking protest from our two dogs, and we gave her food and water and put an umbrella up for her. In the evening her owner put up a poster on the street sign post less than 100 feet from the dog, so S called and Molly got to go home.
After the yard sale we went to a garden party (just the term "garden party" sounds so pretentious but that's what it was, complete with acoustic guitar and goat cheese and damn good wine); some friends of friends are landscape artiste-architects and have completely transformed a dumpy lawn into an interesting space, using concrete block walls and corrugated tin and hog wire and a giant cattle trough with koi and water plants. It is austere and artful; something like a Japanese garden with the ferns and delicate maples and all the big slabs of rock. There is even a four-foot tall stacked-rock sphere a la Andy Goldsworthy in an eye-catching spot of the yard. S said the total effect is Jeffersonian in strict design but with an industrialized twist. Very modern. If it were mine it would be overwhelmed by weeds in two weeks.
When we first arrived, our hostess grabbed me and requested I call my girl JJ, who was supposed to help out with serving food & washing dishes but who left when Tebone arrived. I shut myself into a small room with a big map on the wall and talked to her for an hour. Some things are more important than socializing.
JJ said she said some embarrassing things after the last show on Thursday night, had made herself feel a fool, and Tebone was resolute in denying her the love she wishes were mutual. I told her I think really and truly she needs time away from him. Maybe someday they can be just friends like he wants them to be but not right now, right now her heart is big and sore and it hurts. I can't imagine the strength she has displayed over the past month, dealing not only with a broken heart and a new job and an unexpected move and a car accident but also with performing all those heartbreak songs on a stage with the man who broke it. Most amazing is she doesn't embark on the whole pity-poor-me route; I think if I were in her shoes I would have crawled into bed and stayed there indefinitely.
I also mentioned she should consider cancelling the last two performances scheduled in Portland next month, since she's so miserable and jangled and feels like drinking and then says things she regrets when she's around him. She needs time to heal her heart. She cancelled and he's furious but she said it was a huge weight off her shoulders. And we made plans to go backpacking that weekend in the mountains to a high little cauldron lake, clear and cold and towering trees casting long shadows across the still and deep water, and I can't wait to see the stars. It will be good to go, for all of us.
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