The Illusionist

Summer must be sliding in behind us, slowly turning up the dial. 

Primroses over-bloom, droop, even the bluebells are heavy. 
Elderflower buds besieged by black-fly. 
The lawn cut one minute and replacing every daisy head, every pimpernel, every dandelion with great sleight of hand. 
Bees are in on it, prepared. 
I am running for the hosepipe, feeling hypnotised. Azalea pink, chive flower purple, the fine stripes on citrine gooseberries - such awe is struck, such spectacle, such skill. 

Take an interval in the hammock, the silky hot hammock, too hot for a blanket this time - see how it is as though one could take a butterknife and slice through anything - until the breeze comes, draws across, makes a cooled crust.


A cool breeze in the heat is a magical thing.
As always, you paint a lovely picture.

Summer's sliding in here, too. We've already had several days above ninety degrees. Lots of rain, too, so our grass... or in our case, the weeds... are growing faster than we can push the lawn mower. (Growing like weeds, you might say...)
Geo. said…
Have I told you lately I sure like how you write? You're one of the reasons I blog --and a prominent reason I blog even while recovering from surgery and uncertainty. You are an earthling, one who speaks the language of nature, the language of the universe. Thank you.
Lisa Southard said…
Every bit as lovely as warm socks on cold feet :-)
Lisa Southard said…
Thought you lived in a volcano until I remembered Fahrenheit! I wondered how the weeds could even grow! I hope at least some of your weeds are edible, eating is more fun than mowing :-) xx
Lisa Southard said…
I have no better recommendation, Sir, than your support. Thank you so much, and may the universe bring you ease of healing xx

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