One of the many things I look forward to about this time of the year in this part of the world: the way flowers show up in intense waves of color. (You heard me -- flowers.) This last week, the daylilies have come into their short season, stands of reddish orange lining stretches of roadside, thrusting themselves up toward the sun in thick patches around houses and yards. Two days ago, I sat out on a small landing outside one of this house's bizarrely abundant doorways, the air was actually perfumed with the scent of daylilies. I've never smelled something like that here before, the aroma of flowers filling the air.
In Montpelier, there are houses with massive plantings of daylilies around porches or yard borders. All of a sudden they're everywhere, impossible to ignore. In a few days they'll be gone, black-eyed susans will take their place.
Everything comes and goes in this life of ours.
Another nice part of coasting into the middle of July: the blackflies disappear. Allowing, finally, the simple pleasure of walking around in the open air without needing to slather insect goo on all exposed skin to ward off flying bloodsuckers.
Yet another nice part of heading deeper into July: the sun begins coming up later. Which means it doesn't come up quite so goddamn early, for which I give sincere, groveling thanks. The sky-getting-light-at-4-a.m. thing? Not healthy, not sane. Not reasonable. Obnoxious, in fact. And hereabouts no one but me seems to mind, which makes me wonder if the rest of the local population has been replaced by pod people. Or replicants. Or unfuzzy muppets. Some deviant form of life that doesn't value sleeping to a reasonable hour.
[continued in next entry]
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This morning, way too early:
Madrid, te echo de menos.
rws 9:59 AM [+]
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