Wishbone Soup Cures Everything

Heartened by signs of spring we had begun to hunt for summer. It had hid so well, under days that stretched out light but not warmth, we began to worry. When it pounced it was glorious and shocking: still in our cold weather clothes suddenly the alchemy of heat swept through everything.  Butter was a liquid, our icy, cavelike bathroom was a blessing, the roads were lava. Grass grew taller than fences. Strawberries got fat.  On my commute, cars became carapaces catching sun, shining scales on a snaking neck. Road kill was crow jerky in roadside dust.  Ox eyed daisies lifted up, radiating cool petals, signalling hope.  Signalling remember: signalling balance. Death feeds the carrion birds, and the earth; it becomes the soil to nurture roots.  The sun can both love and blister you.  And then, as the calendar turned to the first month of summer, rain came; it was dumped by the bucket, it washed away the heat, made mud from dust. It suckled the flowers into bloo...