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The days dwindle down
I'm not usually out and about in the early evening but as it's going to rain tomorrow I went down to the library around 6 to collect a hold. And then because today was so muggy, even with the wind blowing, over to get a soft ice cream at the waffle place. Thus the sun was sinking into a cloud bank as I started up my street in the melancholy 'dusk at 7' world, and my mind went wandering back to those few late August evenings on foot that stick in my memory. Very few: 2008, the Pratchett summer, when it stopped raining and I walked out into what looked like Ireland, so green and lush had Toronto become in the course of three months. And way back before that, 1988 with my new house that I hadn't yet moved into, with a summer of intensive Japanese under my belt. Never mind the heat and sweaty humidity: cicadas sing, leaves yellow and fall, cosmos and milkweed grow waist-high, it's autumn.
Saturday was cool and blue but the moist blanket moved in yesterday. SND had decorated her yard with shiny golden streamers over the door to the garage and lantern lights along her south fence and strings of ornaments across the yard, plus a wading pool, and had an all-day party with friends and kids. Birthday, maybe, or maybe to celebrate Sadie's 'all healed up' release from the cone. Made the yard look magical at night.
Though I'm tempted to do a little Shonagon 'the habits of workmen are most strange' bit of snottery. The conversational noises of 30-somethings are most strange. Did my generation squeal like that? I think some of us may have. I usually try for the lower registers when talking so I hope I didn't, at least in my 30s, but I was pretty boisterous in my teens. However I never laughed henh-henh-henh at the end of every sentence like one of SND's male friends. There's at least that.
I have two indisputable talents. I lose socks and I lose bookmarks. Socks have a rational reason: I take them off while reading and then the sofa or the side bedroom bed eats them. Bookmarks have no reason at all. I'll find them everywhere if I'm not reading and put them handy on the sofaside or bedside table, and then when I need them-- gone.
Saturday was cool and blue but the moist blanket moved in yesterday. SND had decorated her yard with shiny golden streamers over the door to the garage and lantern lights along her south fence and strings of ornaments across the yard, plus a wading pool, and had an all-day party with friends and kids. Birthday, maybe, or maybe to celebrate Sadie's 'all healed up' release from the cone. Made the yard look magical at night.
Though I'm tempted to do a little Shonagon 'the habits of workmen are most strange' bit of snottery. The conversational noises of 30-somethings are most strange. Did my generation squeal like that? I think some of us may have. I usually try for the lower registers when talking so I hope I didn't, at least in my 30s, but I was pretty boisterous in my teens. However I never laughed henh-henh-henh at the end of every sentence like one of SND's male friends. There's at least that.
I have two indisputable talents. I lose socks and I lose bookmarks. Socks have a rational reason: I take them off while reading and then the sofa or the side bedroom bed eats them. Bookmarks have no reason at all. I'll find them everywhere if I'm not reading and put them handy on the sofaside or bedside table, and then when I need them-- gone.