Summer Breeze

August is the Washington DC of months. It’s generally fetid not much gets done. My own August has been much the same so far. I return to my make-fun-of-the-news TV show in a few weeks, and so before I dive headlong back into the headlines, I figured I’d give myself an additional few weeks of not paying too much attention to the world. With luck, it will still be here when I check back in.

Of course, it’s impossible to extricate oneself entirely from the nation’s various emergencies. Somehow, events manage to reach even those of us who do not care to pay them any mind. None of us are fully insulated, nor would I want to be. The view outside my window is limited but not that limited.

There are still people out there, however I sometimes wish it otherwise. The same breathless coverage of some of such people’s comings-and-goings. The same silliness. The same few flavors of human foible: money, sex, power. The same emergencies, each of which seems to get a tiny bit worse at every recurrence. Our same sweaty, neurotic planet with all of its sweaty, neurotic creatures; it’s a pretty good place as far as places go, but damn she needs a lot of attention.

And while, to quote the great Willy Loman, attention must be paid, it need be paid by me at this time. As such, the writing has slowed down a bit, the morning tea allowed to cool a little longer. I’ve been taking the little dog for some extra walks in the old farmer’s field behind my house. The old dog gets too winded now and plumb refused to accompany us the other week. So now I ask him if he’d like to join us before assuming otherwise.

In fact, the three of us are just back from such an excursion, my toes still damp from trooping through the dewy grass. The walk was of the abridged variety owing to the presence of our senior fellow. He began with great enthusiasm but I could see him flagging fifteen minutes in and after I turned the last crest before cutting off the trail for home, I had to wait half a minute for his old ass to catch up.

I am in the habit of leaving behind my phone when I walk, although by “habit,” I mean I have to force myself to leave it behind. Not that I usually scroll while rambling, but just knowing I am briefly untethered opens my senses a bit wider. This morning, for example, we listened to the insects and the air pressing against us and blowing by us. We saw a hawk swooping over the trees and several species of mushroom whose names I do not know and whose toxicity I am in no position to assess. The trail smells different in the morning than later in the day, maybe because the moisture carries different scents before it’s burned away.

Now the dogs are in repose and I’m on my writing throne (the kitchen chair). It’s the weekend, which doesn’t mean much to somebody with a work schedule as erratic as mine, but I hope some of you are finding time to rest today. In fact, even as I write these words a cover of Seals and Crofts “Summer Breeze” is playing on the home hi-fi. I know that sounds like a joke but it is not – it is what we in the world of woo call a “synchronicity” and I am interpreting it as a sign to encourage you to allow a lil’ summer breeze to blow through the jasmine of your mind. As for me, I’m going to finish the Spelling Bee, make another cup of tea, and continue ignoring everything.