(no subject)
Jun. 21st, 2022 10:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
The light is finally fading. I'm here on my couch, in the livingroom that could be dark and cavernous if the sun didn't insist on sitting so near the horizon up north here that it sends light right through to the back wall in summer and if there weren't such a lustre on the wood to reflect back from the light fixtures in winter.
It's almost ten thirty. I couldn't read in here anymore, it's finally dark enough, but I could take a book outside to the porch still if I wanted. The screen is bright in this welcome fragment of darkness. The sky is grey and piled with every shade of finely-textured cloud. Earlier today it was all mist, sun slanting in sideways, and rainbows.
Solstice has passed. The longest day is done. It was a rough ride this year, everything rattling and clattering and bolts snapping and rusty pieces falling off. The wheel turns and we're heading full tilt through summer into winter again and I will need to make time to stop and take stock of the damage. Not yet though, I need to heal some first. I need to set up my swing-bed or my hammock in the corn and sleep out there, giving blood sacrifice to the mosquitoes along the way. I need to go into the water somewhere no one can see me and let it pull all the grime and tarnish off my soul. I need to brush my dogs until their winter coats cover the entire driveway. I need to sit and drink sweet tea quietly. I need to wander around and eat things that grow around me.
Okay, ten thirty-three now and although the sky is light the air is dark. I could take a quick look to see the corn if I wanted, to look where the crows have destroyed so much of it, before coming in to bed. Or I could go down into clean sheets and a dark cave to sleep, hopefully past 4am when it gets light again.
It's almost ten thirty. I couldn't read in here anymore, it's finally dark enough, but I could take a book outside to the porch still if I wanted. The screen is bright in this welcome fragment of darkness. The sky is grey and piled with every shade of finely-textured cloud. Earlier today it was all mist, sun slanting in sideways, and rainbows.
Solstice has passed. The longest day is done. It was a rough ride this year, everything rattling and clattering and bolts snapping and rusty pieces falling off. The wheel turns and we're heading full tilt through summer into winter again and I will need to make time to stop and take stock of the damage. Not yet though, I need to heal some first. I need to set up my swing-bed or my hammock in the corn and sleep out there, giving blood sacrifice to the mosquitoes along the way. I need to go into the water somewhere no one can see me and let it pull all the grime and tarnish off my soul. I need to brush my dogs until their winter coats cover the entire driveway. I need to sit and drink sweet tea quietly. I need to wander around and eat things that grow around me.
Okay, ten thirty-three now and although the sky is light the air is dark. I could take a quick look to see the corn if I wanted, to look where the crows have destroyed so much of it, before coming in to bed. Or I could go down into clean sheets and a dark cave to sleep, hopefully past 4am when it gets light again.