Summer is a lawn and an umbrella, and books to read. All the books you couldn’t get to all year. Summer allows for trips to the bookstore, trips to the library, all in good weather. This summer, I am tackling War & Peace again, only this time I plan to read all the war sections. So far Napoleon has made an appearance, and a favorite character who was single in one chapter appears in the next not only married, but with a marriage on the skids. In between courses of the big tome, I happily read Emma Straub’s The Vacationers and Hanna Pylvainen’s We Sinners. Before, it was Wolf Hall and Bring Up the Bodies, which made me sink into all thirty-eight episodes of “The Tudors,” a show which if not as intellectually compelling as Mantel, was colorfully addictive. There are the books I didn’t make through last year, and the new ones I am placing in my mind’s reserve shelf. Boundless summer, that has so much reading in it!
Indira Ganesan, Bounty, 2014
A marmalade cat strolls out of the woods pleased as Punch
makes his way up the path, and disappears into the woods again. He is fat, plump on
more than just mice, his tail tipped with white.
There is a hint of autumn in the wind on this day, perfect as a picture.
Three weeks left before Labor Day.
The paper has been read and discarded,
and it so quiet. The traffic is muted,but there,
it begins again,
as the voices rise and fall in the distance as people make plans.
volunteers itself up in my garden, readying to bloom.
Near the ocean, lucky you, wrote my friend from England. So I hopped in the car and drove down to see it, under this grey-white sky. A family had set up camp near their car, because the tide was high. Only a small strip of beach was exposed, and the horizon held a few cruise ships heading to see whales or to Boston. All was possible. Lucky me, indeed. I shed my socks and sandals on the sand, traced back to my car to deposit my raincoat and bag, and walked to the water’s edge. The waves foamed over small stones which glistened like precious gems, if gems were not transparent but only colorful and shiny. Wading in, I took snap after snap to see if I could capture the way the water changed the color of the stones. Near me, a man swam with his glasses on. Somehow, that made me happy: so practical. I retrieved my raincoat and made a square to sit on, thinking of the women in E.M. Forester who sat on mackintoshes, and wrote a draft of this post. The sun came out, hot on my head. I thought to head back home, and lingered longer. All these people on vacation, relaxing, while I was not on vacation, but glad for a good while in my heart.
A yoga in art exhibit is forthcoming at the Freer-Sackler–donate this weekend!