Changes

Painting by Marcia Baldwin

Changes

There's really nothing in my life that makes the beginning of this month any different from the last week in August. Ot at least that's what it seems like on the surface.

In fact, if I look closely, there are differences:

1. The humidity level has suddenly dropped. The wooden doors to the pantry and the kitchen cupboard have shrunk back to their usual size and now close properly.

2. The days are still gloriously sunny but the nights are cooler and I wake in the early morning to pull the quilt up from the bottom of the bed, dislodging the cat.

3. The grass is regrowing. There are thick, healthy green tufts spreading across the baldness of July and August.

4. I find myself looking at sweaters and boots and imagine wearing them in the not too distant future.

5. Red wine seems more palatable rather than the chilled rosé.

6. There are less people walking up and down ave des Chênes, to and from the beach. And the voices of those who are tend to be Italian, or Scandinavian, or British.

7. Today I packed up the buckets and spades, the inflatable blue deer, the beach parasol and straw mats from under the terrace and put them in the garage. We have no guests due to arrive, no children with sandy toes and flushed cheeks clutching pebbles.

Lynne Rees

Posted over on Applehouse Poetry Workshop