Day 20,666

Tuesday, Sep 2 – Roanoke, Virginia

Weather: warm cling of late summer, damp air holding on

Telemedicine in the morning. Cat circling for food, impatient tail flicks. FIL and I with tools in hand, trading back and forth. Old light out, new light in. Shower seams resealed, the quiet pride of a small repair done right.

(Note: silicone smells hang in the air far longer than expected. House now faintly like a hardware aisle.)

Later errands. CVS for meds. 7Brew stop, gummy bear fizz and black mamba for her. Bright sugar pause.

(Observation: gummy bear fizz does not taste like gummy bears, but the name makes me smile every time.)

Back home, then out again. Tuesday LEAP farmers market, rows of corn and tomatoes, familiar vendors calling out.

(Found myself noting the peach table, skipped for me, though my sweetie lingers there with interest.)

Dinner at Sudha’s Kitchen, spice and warmth filling the table. Closed with Madame Blanc on AcornTV, another layer of puzzle before sleep.

(Suspicion: the cat prefers the show’s theme music over mine.)

Small rhythms, shared work, errands and supper.

Hashtags:

#lifelog #roanoke #farmersmarket #indiandinner #telemedicine #painlog #moodlog

Early Afternoon

It was early afternoon at the edge of the milkweed. The light was sharp but kind, carrying both the warmth of the day and a hint of late summer’s slowing pace. We had only wandered out to check the blooms while waving goodbye to our breakfast guests, expecting nothing more than color and the usual hum, but the moment held me still.

A wasp perched among the cluster of flame orange flowers. Its wings were closer to onyx, as if carved from dark glass and polished in secret. Against the blaze of petals, it looked both alien and perfect.

There was no sense of menace, only grace. The wasp moved slowly, drinking, balancing, shifting from one petal to the next. Each pause seemed to hold its own weight, like punctuation pressed into the afternoon.

The garden’s ordinary song carried on around us. Cicadas called, leaves swayed, bees moved past in their familiar dawdles. Yet the rhythm of this single wasp made all else fade, as if it had become the keeper of the hour.

When it lifted, wings flashing dark in the sunlight, I felt the absence as if a small door had closed. The flowers bent back into their own stillness. I stayed there for a while longer, with the image of onyx wings tucked into my thoughts, carrying the quiet with me.

#bluewingedwasp
#roanokeva
#backyardzoo