The sky was full of a thousand different cloud-shapes in layers upon layers of billowy towers and smears of vapor and gray walls and flat bottoms and the sun shone on some of them and others were dark with shadow or rain and it was magnificent and so, so big.
Also, the rings of Saturn have shifting ephemeral mountains made of dust that rise and fall in response to the motion of Saturn's moonlets. We're flying through space on a rock, y'all! We are racing around the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour and we have dogs and babies and peaches and rivers and trees and that's just as true as anything else.
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I am sitting in a comfortable chair under a warm blanket and my teeth are very clean and spring rain is tapping on the window.
Today there were little white daisies in the grass and it was warm enough to run around in bare arms and I got to watch a video of my tiny nephew sneezing and the mountain was wearing a lenticular cloud like a fancy hat.
It is SPRING.
There are carpets of crocus beneath fluttering daffodils and the air is sweet with daphne. There are hellebores and violets and grape hyacinths and bushes with strange fuzzy red leaves and new little knots of succulents and shrubs that are growing fresh and new in fall colors, like flowers trying to be autumn leaves, and new rosettes of leaves beneath clusters of last year's old sticks. The teenage crabapple in the parking strip is definitely not dead. Everything is swelling buds and shiny stems and tiny electric green leaf-tips and weird crumpled plant babies. They are exactly like newborns: impossibly tiny, slightly squashed, a little dazed, and so beautiful it hammers you in the chest. I was walking through all of this with my mouth hanging open, trying to take it all in, and then I was standing under a magnolia tree, looking up at ivory flowers just barely pink bursting out of fuzzy brown pods. One of them was fully open and in the center of the flower was this tiny, perfect round pincushion of narrow petals standing on end, in that barely blush color, and I just stopped and muttered,"Aw, come on." It was 100% not real. Not real! Nothing can be that beautiful in real life. And then I looked up, and the sky was blue, that deep, deep blue that fills up your chest and lets you breathe again. I forgot it could be that blue, after a winter of watery sunlight and washed out skies. And I was there, looking up through magnolia branches and pale pink flowers into that blue, blue sky and breathing and being alive. Later, I took out the trash, and I looked up, through the narrow break between the houses and past the power lines, and the stars were so bright. |
AuthorBitter Water
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June 2019
Categories© Francie Nevill and Every Sweet Thing, 2017.
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