Notes from my journal.
11 June 2008 – farm
Tonight I sat on the porch in a rocker as dry and gray as our barn. The caning was brittle and tattered, but it had a smooth rocking motion that would quiet a fussing baby or an anxious spirit. I was neither, just a woman satisfied with a good life.
Twilight was settling over the farm. Three dogs were dozing around me. The whippoorwills sounded frantic calls across the pastures. An unopened book rested on my lap as I waited.
Then it began – the real show. Just a few glimpses at first near the woodpile. I spotted more glints of light by the old fence post. Then far into the lavender field and up close by the old dinner bell. Suddenly they were everywhere. Hundreds, maybe thousands of lightening bugs danced in the dark Oklahoma night.
13 June 2008 – Tulsa
Friday the thirteenth, as if it matters.
I’m rambling around B&N. So many books. I list a few but none really beg me to read them. What I really want is another May Sarton book, maybe Plant Dreaming Deep. I feel certain that she is not to be found at B&N, and I have no desire to ask the young clerks. Does anyone other than me read Sarton any more? It’s a tragedy if they don’t. I only imagine she offers more raw honesty than the average Friday night B&N customer can handle.
16 June 2008 – Tulsa
After ducking out of the rain and into the truck, I sat for a moment composing my itinerary for the day: coffee first, begin the soap process, run errands, back to the soap studio. As I sat huddled and thinking, I saw a fox gracefully trot along the street beside me. Suddenly she darted into the vacant lot, a car passed by my window. It must have caused her detour. I continued to watch as she made her way across the broken asphalt to where it met 21st street. It was rush hour and cars were zipping east taking commuters to offices and a new workweek.
The fox turned and ran back ten yards, then watched the traffic. Finally there was a big break, the traffic light must have changed colors.
By now I’d rolled to the corner and was waiting, my blinker signaling a right turn – away from the fox and her destination at the river a long block away. A big SUV pulled up behind me. Then inched closer. I knew they wouldn’t be patient enough to wait as I desired. So as the fox darted across the street I turned onto the street.
Quickly I looked in my rear view mirror.
She’d made it. She was safe.