Ten.Thirty-One

1. The light this morning.  

2. I tell him that I miss my 5 o'clock rise time. That I need that longer stretch of morning. That is where the magic is, I think. 

3. Blueberry pancakes. I make so many things for them that I don't eat. Like blueberry pancakes and french toast and frozen french fries.  

4. The home on the corner is having a patio put in. The bobcat is scraping the asphalt as it attempts to pick up more rock and transport it to the backyard. I get the feeling he doesn't know what he's doing. 

5. Trouble focusing.  

6. I realize that before I can communicate to them what I need, I need to ge clear on it myself. What do I desire for this space? This home? I do know I don't need nerf gun battles while I try to vaccuum. 

7. This is maybe an example of the epic domestic.  

8. I walk the yard and pull the weeds even though he tells me it's no use. But there is something therapuetic about walking through this carpet of green, reaching over with my bare fingers to feel for where the stem meets the earth. And the feeling of tugging band twisting until it releases itself to you. 

9. Toward the far edge of the yard I can smell the wildness.  

10. Electric pink and blue and purple in the sky.