Saturday Night, Approaching Equinox
The neighbors behind us--famous for growing the largest pot plant (protected by an all-winter long 20 foot tarp tent), for coughing up said weed in regular painful hacks, for a barking dog, for a vibrant raised bed of vegetables visible from our second story deck, an occasional baby, a fortieth birthday party with balloons and clinking of glasses, of parties that always involve a little fire and are always quiet by 10 PM--are having band practice in their garage. They are, thankfully, quite good. Often, one of them will sit in the yard after work and play the acoustic, sing a bit. Today, it's the full band--electrified, drums. It might be band practice, it might be a house show. It is the last warm days of summer, already dark at 7:45 PM, the air cooling rapidly from 90 degrees to 73 to 50 overnight. At night, the cats curl on the bed, and the dog moans himself into a little half moon on his bed on our bedroom floor. Ground yourself, S. Remember the world, the tiny orchard you plan...