A Beauty Night

Dear Maria,

A hot sun this morning while I pushed around the mower, the air thickening, and what’s coming is how summer goes around here—you know it well. The viburnum, pittosporum, and ligustrum out front are growing as if bamboo rather than shrubs, and the birds more and more are keeping still in the middle of the afternoons.

The other evening while walking out of Barnes & Noble, I could relish a coolness that may not be here for us much longer. The sun was well down, and contrails being dragged apart were illuminated, and two jets barely showed themselves as silver flecks against the sky. The nearly first quarter moon, too, was overhead. It was, as I recalled a friend’s way of putting it, “a beauty night”.

He would also tag the times when we helped each other out as “doing a friend”. Me, helping retrieve his tractor from nearly toppling into his pond or dragging it out when hung up on a berm. He, bringing his chainsaw over to help clear a big pine fallen across my drive leading in from the paved road.

Certain coded phrases developed between us that said more than would be understood by a stranger. “Scott, there’s something I’d like you to take a look at with me.”  Uh-oh. That meant changing from school clothes into real work clothes. And boots, for sure.

Back in the day. Sort of.

Oh, I decided against buying any books now that I am trying to come to grips with what to do this time around with 50 or 60 box loads and if—if—they are to move with me.

Almost forgot—I read that koi may live to be 100 to 200 hundred years old. All I could think of was the dumping of koi out in a Colorado lake—dumb move, of course. But imagine great-great-grandchildren standing on a dock feeding those same fish. The state is going to try to get the koi out of there, but still….

Just think about a baby koi and the year 2215.

Or don’t. Think about summer plans instead, beating the heat, getting the kids out of the house.

Be well. And maybe our paths will cross soon enough.

Yours, srk

In Due Time

Dear Maria,

I guess the newsiest of the news is my intention to move from my spot here to somewhere in the Upstate where I will be closer to family. Four generations are gathered now in the Greenville area, and that locale seems to be next for me.

Have to sell the house here, of course, and sort out a few things, but while the timeline forward is uncertain, the direction is clear.

Before going up to visit around Mother’s Day, I chanced one late afternoon to see about a dozen chimney swifts in tight formation fly over the garden out back and then scatter in chaotic fashion to chase bugs. My immediate reaction was that I hadn’t seen that before—seen much along the way, but haven’t seen everything yet. Outside my parents’ condo after supper, as I was taking Max for a walk, dozens and dozens of swifts swooped right overhead. Even Max was startled. Hadn’t seen a sight like that either. Check.

Maybe on a subconscious level some of the decision to move on is to see some things I haven’t seen before. Doesn’t feel like change for the sake of change, but just time to take on somewhere else. Been here 30 years nearly.

Mentioned to a few friends how I had in my mind that the next owners here could very well decide to tear out the garden. They were aghast, but for me, just a shrug. I am reminded of the sand mandalas that are so intricate and so beautiful and then are swept away in minutes. Gone. Only in memory. Well, in photos on Facebook, too.

I have lived under 11 roofs in the Charleston area. I had students come and go 28 times in my career here. And the sunrises and the sunsets, by the thousands.

Max, of course, is of genuine concern. For him, a fenced backyard, and for us a good place to walk daily. Not sure what the next home will bring in that regard. Won’t be an apartment or condo.

But that question will be answered in due time.

A little wistful, to be sure. Sky is overcast today, but no rain most likely. Haven’t seen the bluebirds of late.

I’ll stay in touch. You be well, and may your family thrive.

Yours, srk