... is like life turned up. The landscape is exuberantly transformed, after the creeping changes of spring, against the backdrop of longing. Come on, crocus! You can do it! then Whamo! Every color flower against so much green, your eyes can't believe it, the air screaming with birds, the return of butterflies, ants in the sugar, open windows making it sound like your neighbors are in the livingroom.
And all the milestones. Graduations, weddings, anniversaries. And birthdays - seems like half the people I know were born in early June. Good time for taking stock, when the summer lays out long in front of us, and we are hungry for real tomatoes, like the baby birds that boing up out of the nest, all mouths.
I have more time to read, think and write. Great luxuries. I'm enjoying Carlos Eire's "Waiting for Snow in Havana" and Stephen King's "On Writing." The writing is brilliantly engaging, and I carry the stories around in my head.
My calendar is pocked with breaks from the routine: trips and readings. Between, I'm halfway done, well, maybe a third, putting in a new garden. The blanketflower is holding its own in what will be a sweep of color - iris, coreopsis, lily, black-eyed susan. I have a bit of summer on my skin, so I'm not so Ohio White. The first of several rooms-to-be-painted is empty and echoey.
Two days ago my second chapbook was officially released to a room packed with friends. It was a lot of fun, and I appreciate how many people came to what was their first poetry reading. And yesterday my facebook wall filled with birthday wishes.
Blessings everywhere: time, friends, plans, good work, adventure and exploration. A nice place to come to when the world seems mad.
Congratulations to my friends with new babies, diplomas, husbands and wives, homes. Happy anniversary, happy birthday, and happy summer. Happiness is a guest, and I raise a toast while it's here.