All other post ideas disappeared from my brain this morning as I stepped out into the humid morning, already beading up the outside of the glass before 8 a.m. Yes, it will be almost 100 today, and I finally turned on the air-conditioning. But it's time.
So I left the house early, walked quickly and found myself striding on a paved path through a meadow, tall grasses waving, not a breeze to stir them except the one I made in passing.
Later, almost home, I pushed through more tall grasses, daisies, Virginia creeper, weeds with minds of their own. The low grass was wet from the morning dew. The climbing roses have climbed another half foot. The day lilies are ready to pop.
How hard it is to sit still on a day like this. One wants to always be moving, pulling weeds, airing linens, scrubbing the sink. But sit I must. So I compromise with a rocking chair. Today, I'll rock and write.
The days are long, the attention span is short.