Full on weather pandemonium. The inappropriate wearing of shorts by Alaskans, sandals, ocean swimming, beer drinking on boat decks, beaches and mountain slopes. Tank tops worn by people who should seriously reconsider, for both health reasons and photographic evidence gathered by mean little brothers to be used at a later date. . The social order in the Rainforest is gradually breaking down because of seven days of consecutive sunshine.
Last night we drove up the Harbor Mountain road and took a picnic, our friend Susie went with us and we had our masks and a picnic dinner with us. The picnic area was packed with people who had the same idea. Sunset up high was wonderful. I kept Dot on her long training leash. Otherwise she would have wondered around licking the chocolate off the faces of small children, causing some anxiety to their parents I’m sure. Jan took her walker up to the top but found that the decking on the walk way was about five inches to narrow. She let loose with a stream of curses knowing that I had been one of the maintenance men who had rebuilt the walk way some thirty years ago, and they hadn’t changed the foot print, goddamnit.
We ate potato salad and wandered about taking photos. and visited with people on top. Several people appeared to be camping up on top judging by the fires, dogs and kids with crusty faces running around when we left in the near dark. It was a lovely scene.
Red golf ball plays where it lies on our lawn…. for days.
Our lawn remains strewn with toys, because it makes me happy to see balls and toys strewn about in the sunshine. I will pick them up before the rain but for now they look nice out there.
Our son Finn to this day hasn’t forgiven me that I didn’t want to buy a swing-set. I put up rope swings in the trees near our deck. A sturdy rope with a fishing body knotted on the end. Today Dot likes to bat it around and likes to bash it against the tree when she is on a frolic. When Finn asked why we couldn’t put a big swing set in the middle of our rather ample lawn. I told him that swing-sets were mournful and depressing.
“Huh?” he looked at me with his screwed up toddlers face.
“Ever drive by a farm house way, way out in the country and see the old swing sets in the yard? The wind just pushing the empty swing back and forth, back and forth…the chain making that creepy screechy sound?” I’d ask him.
“Nope,” the little angel said, Of course he hadn’t.
“Did you ever wonder what happened to the kids who were supposed to be swinging on those swings?”
“Dad! No.” he said.
“No, you don’t. Those kids all went off to war and they died in combat.”
“Dad… its just a swing set!!”
“Then their grieving parents sat in that house for the rest of their lives listening to the ‘creeeeek…..creeeeeeek…. creeeeeek of those swings on those rusty chains until their parents went crazy, and started tickling everybody unlucky enough to be left in the house….. to death.”
“You won’t let us get a swing set because you will go crazy?” He said adjusting his pee soaked shorts.
“Yep.” I said.
“Can we get a puppy?”
“Do you promise to love it every second of every day?”
“Yes,” and he nodded his angelic head.
“Okay we will get a puppy.” I said and I started tickling him.
it wasn’t easy being my son. I will admit it. But Finn Straley somehow turned out great.
Dot pouting, because I gave her a bath last night.
Kids in the crosswalk.
School busses on the corners,
and clouds are like flags.
jhs
Here is a recording of me reading Laidlaw by William McIIlvany
