Tuesday, July 14, 2009
The wheel of summer turns slowly but inexorably. Corn in the fields is now waist high, the second brood of several species of birds is close to fledging, and the lake is busy with crafts of all kinds: elegant gliding sailboats and zippy PWCs, inboards and outboards, putt-putt fishing boats cranking out their nets. Meanwhile the sun has been slowly, inexorably moving, too. Where once it dipped behind the finials of my neighbors' porch, it now sets in the corner of my own, and turns the glass candle holders on the table to colors they've not displayed since they were molten. Peace reigns over the lake at evening. Purple Martins swoop after lacewings in mid-air, their vesper-song mingling with the muted laughter of children splashing in the shallows further down the shore. The fragrant smoke of a backyard bonfire drifts lazily by, and the last rays of fading sunset gutter out.