Steamed

August 25, 2013

     Preening on a scorcher summer day got the better of me. Turkeys disappear, leaving their iridescent feathers strewn across the prickly acres, between buildings on the land. I collect the best of the bits of wing to divide with Taelor. Yet another grand scheme, to encourage creativity, which may propel her into pursuing an entrepreneurial life. I envision these glorious pieces of fluff, draped from young women’s ears, twirling in the wind of their confidence and success. Two gargantuan fans, multitude of brown and black shades, once useful tail feathers lie beneath the collection of smaller ones, to surprise my daughter with their magnificence and glory. We walk, Ty and I, along the wide paths, grazed to jagged perfection among the twisted trees that clump together that produce a woods. The walkway projects down, sloping to the muddy river where the happy dog can swim after thick branches, and welcome the reprieve from pesky horse flies that land on his nose, biting and sucking blood for sustenance. He is so amiable, he fails to be furious at the gluttonous insects. I crush them in rage at the audacity, though more pests land within seconds. I contemplate nothing as I meander along the trail, glimpsing the flock of big birds, gawking and startled yet unwilling to yield to our passing. We march back to explore another way, gleaning feathers and interesting objects from just beyond my footprint.

     I sink into a dreary day while awaiting sunset when I can drizzle water on the dessert dry plants, talking with them about the undulating thoughts that pan in and out of my brain. The chubby girl with murals of tattoos that crawl out of her sleeve and around the curve of her barely indented back, ambles through my mind. She smiled like a lazy cat, serving us iced lemonade and glass of water in Texas-sized cups, to accompany our pizza at 5:17. Not certain why she chose to show up like she did, amidst the ripening-before-my-very-eyes cherry tomatoes and cheerful flowers but there she was, clear as the bees clustering around the buds. The waitress had commanded attention since my supper companion began to mumble about the pizza taking too long and that we should have gone elsewhere. I wasn’t worried for my own safety; the wiggle around my middle reminds me that I don’t have to eat for another few weeks. She canters away as a grasshopper interrupts my meditation as I follow his course with delight. I revere the insects that used to cling to my legs, in the fields out in back of our house when I was growing up. Difficult to spot one these days.

 

     So hot, I cannot concentrate on anything but the dribble of sweat soaking my shirt. In another day or two it should cool off, just in time for the State Fair to latch the gate for the season. I feel for the performers, dressing in layers to woo the audience and more importantly, the law-abiding judges. My fingers and toes are crossed for my good friends who are competing in several of the horse shows. Good Luck to all of you! I’ll be sitting in the bleachers, munching kettlecorn and cheering you on.