It's been one of those wonderful, lazy summer weekend days today:
I confess, I didn't do a bit of weeding in the garden, which I should have done.
Well,... I did mow the lawn, (since Joe is mending after arthroscopic knee surgery.) But we started the day with decadence-- french toast for breakfast, along with plump strawberries, syrup, and whipped cream. (It's the weekend, right?)
For a good bit of the day, we sipped lemonade, relaxed, read the Sunday New York Times, and quietly watched the birds fly back and forth to the feeders. I clipped flowers for vases all over the house.
Joe and I are babysitting "the kids"--Olivia and Winston. (Joe always teases that the two of them put together might equal one complete dog.)
They've actually behaved quite well. Olivia likes to curl up behind Joe on his chair, and she'd be pretty content to sleep there with him almost all day long if he let her. I don't think she'd care if he never moved.
Winston, on the other hand, likes me to harness him up and venture into the Great Outdoors, where he can sniff and nuzzle every flower, leaf, and blade of grass to his heart's delight. To see the two of them, you'd think visiting Joe and me is a pretty exciting adventure!
When I took Winston out for one last walk this evening, we saw fireflies flitting around the yard in that magical way they do, blinking like little fairies in the dimming skies.
It brought back memories of summers as a little kid, catching those little guys and putting them, with leaves, into Mason jars, with holes poked into the lids. We'd watch them lighting up the sky, and finally we'd let them go, out into the steamy night.
In Defense of Fireflies:
Of a starlike start they are accused
as if a star was ever used
to combat cancer, or to lure
phosphorescent mate, secure.
Since when were fireflies meant to stay?
They propogate and fly away
and now you cannot find them in
a single field or north woodland.
(--Robert Frost)
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