8:30pm April 4, 2004
Jun. 6th, 2004 11:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
muck_a_luckI'm frying bacon for the boys and washing dishes.
I want a BLT. On lightly toasted whole wheat bread with mayonaise and peeled tomatoes still warm from the garden.
Hold the spiders. Unless John wants mine.
Which makes me think about summers in Madison. Standing at the sink washing dishes. The smell of lemon Joy. Or Dawn. The air conditioning just barely making it cool and the air is a little clammy. I'm looking out at the hazy mountains, the white church and it's white fences. The cows moving around the valley. The garden, large and a little weedy, full of tomatoes and peppers and squash and flowers. We had BLTs for lunch and later we will sit on the terrace with our feet propped up on the railing and watch the sunset over those same mountains.
I think of Grandma R's garden in Charlotte, too. Smaller and weedier, but still full, with the slightly bitter smell of the squash vines, watching the peppers grow bigger each day. Sitting on the porch eating odd lunches and watching the hummingbirds come to drink.
Or sitting in the living room in Madison, late at night, playing five hands of Rummy wtih the windows open and a cool, humid breese drifting in after a stormy evening. In the day, if you open all the blinds, this simple room in this unassuming little house has a 240 degree view of mountains and fields and garden.
I miss them all so much.
The cat is licking the paper where the bacon was and I want a perfect BLT.
I want a BLT. On lightly toasted whole wheat bread with mayonaise and peeled tomatoes still warm from the garden.
Hold the spiders. Unless John wants mine.
Which makes me think about summers in Madison. Standing at the sink washing dishes. The smell of lemon Joy. Or Dawn. The air conditioning just barely making it cool and the air is a little clammy. I'm looking out at the hazy mountains, the white church and it's white fences. The cows moving around the valley. The garden, large and a little weedy, full of tomatoes and peppers and squash and flowers. We had BLTs for lunch and later we will sit on the terrace with our feet propped up on the railing and watch the sunset over those same mountains.
I think of Grandma R's garden in Charlotte, too. Smaller and weedier, but still full, with the slightly bitter smell of the squash vines, watching the peppers grow bigger each day. Sitting on the porch eating odd lunches and watching the hummingbirds come to drink.
Or sitting in the living room in Madison, late at night, playing five hands of Rummy wtih the windows open and a cool, humid breese drifting in after a stormy evening. In the day, if you open all the blinds, this simple room in this unassuming little house has a 240 degree view of mountains and fields and garden.
I miss them all so much.
The cat is licking the paper where the bacon was and I want a perfect BLT.
