June 25
To say its summer now feels far more genuine that if we would have said it a week or ago, or a week before that; it seems that any date past the school year for children constitutes summer, although we all have to wait for the magical 21st of the month when, if all goes well, the rain disappears for awhile, the sun blankets the earth for more days in a row, folks hold on with a bit more security those natural smiles because they know they can count on getting outside and living their lives more fully again. Here in Madison – the midwest in general – we are experiencing expectations a little different this year, as others. We experienced some profound beauty in months previous, the kind of stuff that makes the gardener and the outdoorsy type make that secret wish with the devil: I promise I will do everything I can to be good if this dreary spring goes away and the sun comes on in to settle. Didn't really happen this way; June has been wet; for those of us who need the green, it becomes a kind of crawling period of time, always waiting for the days of expectation. Now, I will say this, as June 21 hit, so too did a nice patch of clean weather and this city has been alight for a few days now by foot traffic and festivals, bright colors and, whether we all like it or not, a lot of pale untanned skin poling through those shorts legs. Yesterday was as fine a summer moment as I can truly boast: we put on a writing workshop at Tenney Park, which is positioned at the south edge of Lake Mendota, where the lochs let lake water down into the Yahara River, which then travels through the isthmus to Lake Monona, where I live on a classic corner sporting a bridge and arching trees.
No comments:
Post a Comment