I was out in my garden early in the morning, right before the sun came up. It was light enough to see, but dark enough for most people to still be asleep. The night animals were heading home, and the daytime animals were waking up and cautiously coming out into the trees.
As for me, I was out before the summer heat would make it too hot to be outside. I also like the quiet before the sounds of power tools takes over the neighborhood.
While I tied up a climbing rose my life flashed before my eyes, or at least everything I had ever done that was not lost, or changed, or passed, or remembered, and mourned, or celebrated filled my head.
A ghost sat on the fence, looking at me with glowing eyes, judging my thoughts. I picked a rotted orange off of the ground. Yeah, the heat makes the oranges left on the trees get big and pithy and drop off. I threw the orange at the ghost. it vanished in a puff green of Sulphur scented smoke as the orange hit the ghost in the head. I still haven’t lost my touch.
By the time the sun came up, and the squirrels started doing their acrobatics I’d filled the green waste can, and emptied my mind.
As for the rest of the day, I don’t know what I’d be doing. My list was long, and my ambition short. It was Sunday after all, so I wasn’t obligated to do much of anything. Well, that is except to stay out of my own head, and hope nobody would throw an orange at me.
~ end
Vampire Maman 