A honey of a thunderhead moved in this afternoon just as I was taping off my mailbox for its second round of blue spray paint. I won't go into why it's now been two different blues, I'll just say that the one it wears now is a lighter, lovelier shade than the one underneath it. The clouds seemed to rush toward me with urgency, blowing my hair enough to lift my ponytail off my neck and instantly cool me. I smiled as I sprayed my little mailbox (after taping off the cute little red flag) and the mist blew and landed everywhere but the shiny metal surface. I tenaciously finished the job and hurried under the porch's cover, enjoying something as simple as the very movement of air.
A few sheets of rain washed across the driveway and begged our resident slugs to come out and play. The sky quickly cleared and pretended it hadn't been cross just moments ago. So I decided to go for a little jog after supper. As I struggled up Wyoming, calling down vehement curses on the root beer float I thoroughly enjoyed in celebration of Memorial Day (oh, and the strawberry shortcake too...) the darkness fell quickly. The brightly colored male robins were squawking loudly at one another (sigh. men.), and the fireflies bounced upwards in the indigo air. It occurred to me that if I could see the flight patterns of these twilight-happy creatures, it'd look pretty hilarious. Just think of the busy patterns they weave all night long -- like a gigantic ball of string that a few cats fought over. And then maybe ate and threw up again. Yep, that's probably what it would look like.
So that's all. Isn't it funny that's what I chose to write about after an entire day's happenings? This is what summer is all about, I propose. Now it's to shower and to bed with me. Can't climb under the sheets with dirt between my toes and paint on my forearms, mama taught me better than that. Thanks, mama.