I barely recognize our yard. What used to be a blank canvas of grass upon grass, with a few blocks of thick concrete to make a path and tiny patio is now carved out with cobblestones and flowerbeds. Our wheelbarrow and potting tools still line up along the fence, waiting for next spring I guess. Or one of us to put them away.
Oddly, things keep flying past my face…first a tiny spider (I didn’t know spiders could fly, but I swear it was one), then a little hair belonging to nothing, next a crackly leaf that bounced off my head, and just a moment ago, a huge monarch butterfly that whisked past on its way to explore the pink house next to us. My advice would have been to stay over here, had it paused long enough to consider the options.
I probably need to write about something besides the weather soon, but the seasons have intrigued me lately, I think because I realize how much is about to change. I have started to feel the baby’s first kicks, a preview. Kind of like September.
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1 comment:
Please don't stop writing about the weather; I am living vicariously through your seasons! Would you take pictures of changing leaves? Please?
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