A lavender soaked evening.
An afternoon in the beautiful North Central Washington Riviera, with a splash of that magic Alice. RHG had fetched some good stuff this year at NWSS. It was a still and hot late summer day. A drop on a piece of spearmint gum launched me almost instantly. The author of a pizza cookbook I was leafing through stared at me with intense regard, then winked before all of his face began to sway to and fro.
We sat and watched the sun drift languidly across the sky, sitting in silence with each other, soft smiles facing back out into the yellow afternoon. The sky began to become pink and lavender. We listened to the birds and the bugs and sometimes I would venture out into the grass with bare feet, stepping deliberately because it felt as though all my joints were delicately balanced ball bearing. I watched my feet in the grass and Princess snaked her tail around my leg and laid in the sun.
Inside the afternoon, a million wild flowers bloomed inside my dome piece. I watched a bee, heavy with pollen dance along the rose bush in the backyard of Douchington Manor. I ate some raspberries. A little bush has sprung up voluntarily beside the cistern and the raspberries this season were tiny and perfect, a burst of bright, fresh tart juice.
The afternoon's gentle wind was the music. The sounds drifting in from the neighbors reminded us that we had not launched from this mortal coil to some quiet, personal Heaven. As the tree lines and fences buoyed along, it become apparent that I could quiet literally melt out in Sir Douchington's back yard. We retreated to the basement of the Manor to cool down a bit. As usual, Netflix was right there in our dimension and suggested "Bunny and the Bull". We clicked on it haphazardly, with the doe-eyed carefree 'tude of the sort of someone soaking in liquid L. The movie was delightfully engrossing; good story, good actors, awesome art direction. The basement was cool and still and we ferreted down the rabbit hole with the story. The evening had not yet began, the sun was still moseying across the sky, the most patient afternoon in August.
We finally were able to gather ourselves for a walk...
We took Moondog eArthfriend and set about a walk along the canal. A winding irrigation canal that wanders gently through old residential neighborhoods, it made for sparkling aqueducts in my mind's melting eye. Back yards and gardens pressed against the ledges. eArthfriend trotted along, almost prancing with glee to be out and about in the warm evening. The smell of backyard barbecues drifted along on with us, lifting our mood and moving our minds toward dinner. We had fixings for a Junior Congressman Sirloin Burger, his specialty.
There were places where the water glowed with the fiery reflections of the golden pink sky and sunflowers hung dozily toward the water. A family celebrated a birthday party with purple streamers and balloons and the sounds of children laughing as they bounced in blow-up castle and parents chatting over plates of roasted pork and cold beer in the can. Sometimes we held hands as we walked and sometimes we were silent. eArthfriend trotted down the ramps and lapped at the water and we would look at each other and laugh about jumping in ourselves.
Returning to the Manor, we set about dinner. The Jr. Congressman Burger was invented Memorial Day Weekend by RHG himself. Sirloin burgers lightly seasoned and grilled over charcoal. Spinach, lettuce, purple onion, tomato for the gentleman, stone-ground mustard, Stilton and cheddar on a toasted sesame seed bun. Wash it down with cheap white wine on ice and some curly fries with Johnny's Seasoning (from popcorn to prime rib, everything's better with Johnny's). We ate with relish, the luxurious meal soaking up into our welcoming appetites, reviving us, revving us up for a evening of shenanigans.
Cheap white wine goes down easy in the cool summer nights of late August on the NCW Riviera. His deck faces out to the edge of the valley and the sounds come down from the canyons. The coyotes will howl sometimes. We finally are able to turn on music, we are finally able to cope with the intensity. And even then we kept it low, letting the magic slowly build and we drifted through conversation, smoking American Spirits. And danced some.
It's hard to describe rolling through a day and night that felt like a walk through an impressionist exhibit. To know for a moment the almost painful prettiness of the sky when the sun is setting on the right kind of evening. How a field of hay or a vase of sunflowers can be so simple, so rough and so beautiful. Or how a sunset or the bridge can be recreated in such a way that it causes you to stop and stare into it and just imagine being in it. Like jumping into the chalk sidewalk drawings in the Mary Poppins movie. And then, it slowly melts away, oozes through your psyche and the colors and magic slowly retreat to the Land of Make-Believe until next time.
And you awake, on the other side, smiling..... ...
