#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Charles River

Two herons this morning at the river. Wave is happy with his mother. I go out for a walk to the river in this extension of summer sun and warmth. Leaves starting to turn. I want to work in the gardens. Weeding, watering, planting the new plants. It’s too nice to be indoors. Wave comes out, we play for a bit on the new tennis court in progress. It’s the base down. No paint or finishing or fence yet. He rides his bike fast around this new hard surface that used to be garden. I finish my planting and Papa takes over. Planting some cone flowers to bloom and a butterfly bush and some purple sage which is so easy and generous in its scented bloom in September. Let’s see what the rabbits do. Let’s see what the chipmunks do. Let’s see. A good soaking of all, including me, because the hose is in Wave’s hands. After lunch I try to get some quiet and work out a new poem. It’s slow going. It’s plodding. No sparks yet. But I have two poems ready for workshop. It’s a very sweet day with the doors and windows open. Will and Franci come for our first game of pickle on the new court. It’s marked up with chalk. We play two out of three in the humid air under the hot late afternoon sun and have a lot of fun. Wave out with us the whole time playing and somewhat interfering, but we don’t mind. Then it’s a quick walk to the house to start dinner. Everyone home for Sunday dinner. Frank whips it up and I handle dishes and clean up and we all sit around the table with the doors open. We linger. We move to the porch and sit around Frank’s fire. We play a game sort of like telephone so we can talk over an issue that’s been bothering Wave. Something he’s struggling to understand in his own heart and mind. All of us there working it out with him. We laugh. It’s a fun and poignant evening. And I don’t get back to my poem. And that’s okay.