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.