Journal Entry: July 31, 2014
I am taking a vacation day. Luscious to be home. Son is playing Beethoven's Sonata Pathethique. It never fails to move me. I stop what I'm doing to listen, sigh, and feel my heart swell. The beauty makes me want to cry.
I drove Luna to Camp Good Puppy for the day. She was excited about exploring the farm until she realized, from the other side of the fence, that I was leaving without her. She went bonkers trying to get to me. Jumping, pushing the gate, I think she was contemplating digging out for her next move.
It's a beautiful day and the puppy gets to be out with other doggy friends in a wide meadow with soft ground to dig in. She will have a grand time.
Today's smells: the sweet, peppery, fresh scent of potted Basil brought in from the warm patio to water. The leftover smell of vanilla coffee from the half cup left cold on the table from breakfast. The scent of plants and forest on the back deck. The slightly garlicky aroma of last night's pozole every time I open the door of the refrigerator.
The sounds are fewer. There is Son's music, but the piano is silent now. So the only orchestra is the one undertaken by a construction crew as they hack away the tangle of forest behind our house and train the land into space for a park. I can hear chain saws, dump trucks, the faint shouts of the men, and the snapping of branches as they cut through the thick web of shimmering green.
The landscape is layered with light. Diaphanous shades and tints of green and yellow. The rich burgundy of the Japanese maple. Crocosmia blooms are teardrops of fire. Thyme, Petunias and sweet potato vine cascade from the terra cotta planters. The sky is bathed with the sheerest turquoise and dotted with floating clouds.
It is summer. The warmth, the light, the white stillness all lovely. Lovely. Lovely.
Were it not for a vacation day I'd miss its charms. I would know it was a sunny day. I would hear a mention on the radio, or someone on the phone would say, "Enjoy the sunshine," as a sign-off to our conversation about hiring or jobs or employment. I might feel the hard slap of heat if I left the office midday to go home and check on Son, feel the sizzle from the asphalt or the suffocation of the closed car interior before the AC roared to life.
The quiet, reflective, tranquil essence of an Oregon summer day requires all the senses. In the spirit of Emily Dickinson, it takes reverie. I have that gift today.
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