My apple tree. This means a lotta apples this summer.
I go on call tomorrow. Fun and games are over. Hiking, dog walking, pulling weeds. Being on call means I have to stay close to home. In case. I can't ride my bike too far away. I can't be in the swimming pool too long. I have to go to bed early. No second glass of wine.
I did weed. And I have to take off my gloves to weed properly. I can't feel with gloves on. My hands look like gardener's hands. Gnarly and dirty.
I went to Good Will today. The woman in front of me in line was wearing a large straw hat with many crow feathers stuck into the band. Many feathers, like 50. And she had other items on her hat, buttons, flowers (plastic), a small pink comb. She was also wearing a velvet dress and a long leather coat. She was impressive. I imagined her trip to Ellis Island, in the old days. She has lost her accent by now. Perhaps she sleeps under the bridge. Perhaps she sleeps in a mansion. Perhaps she wears her hat to bed so she can fly in her dreams.
I'm going to read with Rebecca in June. Holy shite. What will I read? What will I wear? I think we each read for 15 minutes. 15 minutes is an effing eternity. Although R said she might bark in one of her poems. Maybe I'll make balloon animals to take up some time. Rebecca is a genius. I'm humbled to read with her.
Maybe I'll wear my red shoes. For courage.