wonder flying machines

a few things brewing in my cauldron of late. surprises and silliness.

we planted zinnias by seed today. we've been trying to do it for weeks. there's too much going on. they're muddy and secret off of the back step tonight but soon they'll be there to greet us, and those who share the drive with us, when we step out and when we drive in. something sunny and pink and pick-able.



ignorantly, i am astonished at how long it takes to do such simple tasks with fingers grabbing and mouths eating and feet stomping and sliding. it's enough to bark at and complain about but we made it without anything of the kind. maybe a little bit from jude who was very put out that we wouldn't let him eat soil or seed.

and then it rained. we came inside and cleaned up. dinner was eaten and the place was cleaned up. the kids were crabby so the book we're reading together was nearly shouted. brushed teeth and pyjamas and then the rain. dark clouds and puffs of wind, nothing spectacular. "oh no, it's raining!" henry said as he went up to bed, as though we were dressing for a long walk or swim.

early this morning in the midst of the first storm henry rolled into a curl next to ernie and hid his face with his hands from the thunder. so much to learn about for one so small and beautiful.

tonight i felt a swell of sea-sickness while helping jude sail off to sleep. the maple outside the window, the pride of the town, the enormous tree that shades the street, the yard, the house, that paints golden glitter through the windows in autumn, the tree of all trees whose bloom came sudden and serious, the tree who was late this spring, late and lonely all bare among the flowers and fronds, this tree that i had been imagined dying from old age, wrinkled and crusty, having men in yellow boots and orange vests in cranes chopping down for us, one hair and arm at a time with a crash to the street, this same tree all leafy and green was swelling itself sea-sick and i had a flash for a split lightning strike second of dizziness. fall over and try to stand up again dizziness.

the fan was blowing in the back bedroom and our windows haven't had the screens swapped out for summer yet so we've been keeping them shut due to a unanimous fear of bats among the captains of this team. and all of these blocked out the sound of those clapping leaves in the tree so they were moving in a silent swell below the black of the storming sky. jude was humming to sleep as he does each night, cozy beside me. i wanted to start off the same direction myself, humming, perhaps, but henry was next on the to-kiss list so i kept myself from being swung dizzy to sleep.



now ice cream man (ice cream man) ring your bell (ding ding)
play your music i've learned to love so well
ice cream man (ice cream man) ring your chimes (ding ding)
in the afternoon so fine.