Thursday, June 9, 2011

Not Hot

Yesterday and the day before we set high temperature records, hitting the mid-90s. Today the temperature is supposed to barely tiptoe over 60. Can you say schizophrenic? Is it any wonder Durwood's got a rotten cold and fever? I pity the people up at The Clearing for the week's workshops. I imagine they packed for the heat and are surprised by the chill. Good thing for the bookstore and gift shop, though, since they sell sweatshirts and long-sleeved tees. I got my new orthotics yesterday. They feel odd, especially the left one with the lift in it. But I'm glad to have all the new stuff at once so I can get used to it all and get the aches over with. I need to change the way I walk. I need to "toe in" since I tend to walk like a duck. I need to walk "heel to toe", since I evidently walk flat-footed. And of course there's the lift which will straighten my hips and ease the strain on my sciatica. I'd like it if someone could pick me up by my shoulders and just snap me back into shape like you do with towels that you're folding, but I'm thinking that's not going to happen anytime soon, so I'll deal with having to remember to toe-in and heel/toe. Thinking and walking both at the same time is not easy at my age. Sheesh.

June 8--Wassily Kandinsky, The Garden of Love. The round eye of the sun beat down into the clearing in Jean's garden. It baked the gravel path and sent the plants leaning away from the harsh light. It was so intense that it overpowered the cooling effect of the fountain making the falling water sound like flesh sizzling on a griddle. Jean lay under the plum tree mourning the loss of the blooms in last week's wind storm. A few of the petals gathered in the edge of the nearest hosta bed, their pale pink turning to rust in the dry heat. She lay her hand on the swell of her abdomen tracking the Morse code movements of the small inhabitant. Her thin green dress blended into the shadows where she lay and the hum of bees made her feel as if the garden itself were vibrating in her veins.

Well, you just never know what will come from that madman Kandinsky, do you? Enjoy your day.

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