Thursday, June 15, 2017

breezy harp

The swing is rocking me gently as I listen to the sounds of Nature and man. Dump trucks roar down Groves, 400 and onto our road, surrounding me with rumble. The thunder of engines tries to overwhelm the sound of the wind in the trees. ‘Who can see the wind’? I can today. It blusters through the leaves, rattling them in a frenzied dance.

Still, wind aside, I am outside on the swing, my favorite spot in the summer (it’s even better than sitting under the awning in a dusty campsite). Life seems good here.

Last night my trip outside was accompanied by tiny fireflies, stars in the grass mirroring those in the velvet sky.


The peonies burst into bloom sometime between last night and this afternoon. I grabbed my camera to take some photos before the rain. Every year I take tons of photos in the vain hope that I’ll actually be able to capture one and hold and smell and feel it it forever. I’d like a divan with pillows of voluptuous peonies to rest on, their cool petals a balm to my sun-soaked skin.



The mods to the deck by the pool were completed on Tuesday. Carm did a good job of getting it done with my limited ability to help. Still, I did hold boards being sawed and passed the right tools. The whole deck needs to be redone, boards and all. It would be good to have a designer to finish the look, but we’d rather spend the money on a trip to Italy, so it will have to do for now. We don’t mind that it doesn’t have railings and such – it is a better view to the rest of our property without them.

Grace is out here with me, wind ruffling her feathers. I don’t think it is her favorite thing but she makes the best of it. Perhaps, like myself, she enjoys her swing in the sunshine. She’s started making the strange sounds that she heard from Mark last week. She’s  been quieter than usual and I think she misses being camping.

20170615_703Spike here, I want Laura to take me camping again. It is boring, boring, boring here. All the grass in the field is too high to walk in – Laura reminded me that it was hay and would be cut soon so we’d have somewhere to walk, but for now there is just the boring laneway. I don’t know when we’ll go – Laura said we have to wait till our cousins from Norway visit. She says that I’ll like them and that one of them admired me quite a bit when we were on our Alberta adventure. I guess that will be okay.  bye for now.

Every string of nature's breezy harp is touched to answer thy sighs. The green oak and cedar—the dark pine, the yellow and silvery-barked willow—each majestic old tree; hath its own peculiar tone and whisper for thine ear. ~Elizabeth J. Eames

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