Summer and I have a love/hate relationship. Love: the slower pace, open possibility and lush, sustaining growth summer offers with its beauty and quiet.  Hate: the hot air does me in—makes me feel like I am suffocating.

This love/hate informs me—I hold it close and let it teach me something.

I made a summer breakfast, partially from the garden.  Then I painted it, the eggs and fresh tomatoes with a bowl of green beans and a goblet of icy cold water.

Still Life with Summer I called the little watercolor.  The meal.  A noun.

Then the adverb slid in, still life with summer.  Here I am, still alive in this beautiful world to do the things I am meant to do.  Summer is still here.  Now.  Not for long.

Then the verb ambles up.  Still life with summer.  Hold it close-in, quiet, full in my heart with its cricket wing-on-wing beat, summer thunder, stretching blossoms.  Quiet yourself. Be still.

Summer, you are a gift.