porch world
dispatch 42a
hello friends!
I don’t have much to share today. I am focusing hard on joy and planning to head to the garden store after work to get the last things I’ll need to put the garden in this week. When I say garden, it’s two small, barely-raised beds which have been a perfect learning ground for me. I don’t know if other people experience this but I sometimes forget how nourishing it is for me to be outside. I forget to do the thing that would help me, and then wonder why I can’t quite find myself for awhile. I don’t know if it’s sobriety or adulthood, or some combo of both but I spend everyday just finding my way back to myself over and over. Today that mean’s going outside.
This essay is a quick one about a perfect weekend moment that I want to stamp in my memory forever.
porch world
Yesterday afternoon on the porch with dirty bare feet tucked up onto wooden rocking chairs and everything finally growing again so wild that it feels like being in a tree house to sit here. I can smell the lilac blooms and how their scent, mixes with the smell of the rain that’s just about to start and the tar smell of hot pavement. Under everything, there is the buzzing of the bumblebees, audibly hovering in the air like tiny zeppelins, loud against the birdsong. Across the street that impossibly large, grey cat walks through the overgrown grass at the edge of the sidewalk, a tiger in the jungle.
My skin smells like sun and my tattoos are a little greyed out from the sunscreen that we are always so good about using in these first hot days. There is a stack of books at my feet and a non-alcoholic beer on the table next to me, and it just feels so simple and precious to be sitting on the porch like this, watching families and dogs go by. I feel content and at ease. I am in a world of movement, but I am still.
