September 2022

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Labor Day Weekend Ritual:

Rise alongside the sun, dress and wash-up quick, lace shoes, harness dog, top head with straw hat. Walk, grateful for the cool before the heat. Ascend on mud soft ground to the pinnacle of the shortest double hill and wait in the low wind. Eyes south to witness the rise of balloon after balloon to crowd the sky. Our aging eyes wonder at the non-standard shapes: pig in coveralls, fish, unicorn, frog, smiling blue horned creature, Darth Vader, Yoda!! Quiet save our sighs and a single engine splitting the sky above.

Then the descent, peppered with flowers and our commentary on this small luxury. Nothing and everything before eight a.m.

Taste Time

There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box lids, and rain. And, going further, what did Time look like? Time look like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theater, 100 billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight-Tomas shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck-tonight you could almost taste time.

Ray Bradbury

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