Balance and a Ceramic Bowl

Bear with me while I search for some balance here.

We walked out in the late summer dry this evening to find the ice cream. I even ran back for my camera, fully intending to document the ice cream at least. But the ice cream was gone before it had a chance to get that melty and delicious look, and the background changed from dry grass, to pavement, to sawdust, and I was uninspired to click at all. It didn't have that lazy summer feeling even though there was a rather good concert going on in the park. To me it seemed that we were rather desperately searching for some sort of lingering summeryness that was nowhere to be found. My favorite bits occurred when I walked past those special houses whose owners had managed to find just the right balance. Their grass was green, but more importantly, they had vegetables and flowers flourishing in pots and planters. Their yards exuded cool and restfulness, and I could feel the other intense green of envy. They had managed to find the time to water, and fertilize, and make for themselves an oasis in their little plots of town.

So, feeling disgruntled and a little melancholy, helped along by Maddie's convenient disobedience, I trudged along home, trying to keep a little balance. I have quite a good life, after all. Once there, I did what any self respecting grumpy person would do, I set to work taking care of the things that I could do. I deadheaded the poor wilted hydrangeas. They smelled like childhood bridal bouquets, and I even took the time to notice their lovely faded colors.

I watered my stressed out maple tree, and I picked a bowl of green pears. I pulled them down in the twilight, and ducked as a dozen others fell off the tree and clunked to the grass around me. I filled up a red ceramic bowl and put it right in the middle of our kitchen table to look pretty in the morning sunlight, and ripen to sugary sweetness.

Now, I will wash the cobwebs off of my face, and read some friendly posts, and wait for fall.