August 21, 2017
gazpacho soup for lunch with s&b's good homegrown CA tomatoes. so refreshing. such a statement of summer, soup form.
we returned to pickleball. we didn't have those special solar eclipse glasses (what will become of all of them now?) and we were too lazy to look for or even research alternatives. we just avoided looking in that direction. it was only partial at best here. besides, I prefer the light on the mountains every day, which changes a hundred times a day, at least. and that doesn't say anything about the summer sunrises and sunsets which are a twice a day event with no special glasses required.
still, having read annie dillard's account of a total eclipse, I wish we could have been on some hillside in OR for this one.
I keep remembering the whales. how wide their tails were, diving. how high their exhale blew the spray plume as they surfaced. and the sunflowers that edged s & b's back patio, daisy falling asleep on the dutch door, buttercup's demand for petting time in s's lap, her jealousy of midnight. how rich their eggs tasted, true treasures inside shells of varying shades of blue and brown. 62, i'd never eaten halibut before. and I certainly never even imagined how many varieties of dahlias there are til I walked into a room specifically designed to display them, elegantly, in all their magical diversity. spreading ricotta mixed with kale and spinach onto al dente lasagna noodles and rolling them up while pausing to dance a little, even if our fingers were too cheesy to snap. also, after a long morning of hiking, sipping a beer in the sun, watching the phoebe catching flies the chickens stirred up with their constant pecking and scratching, it's loops were like a dance, like sky writing, out and back again with a mid flight flutter, as calming, and centering as an hour long meditation.