Bucolic suburbia

[l_stboy]

It's 11am on a Saturday, the first really summer-feeling Saturday since the winter rains. The sun is getting high and the air is easily in the 80s already. J got home from work at 3am and Christian got back from the bars sometime later, so I'm sitting alone on the back porch in my Adirondack chair, feet up on the fire pit I converted from wood to

Comments

[tyratae]

I don't think there's *any* excuse for glowering at anything at all in that story. Rather, praise the bougainvillea for being plucky and fierce even given suburban adversity, and lie down on the sugar-stained patio and dirty your jammie-bottoms and breathe in summer's preface like a plant yourself, until some sticky-chinned fella *brings* you coffee, that's how it ought to go.

:)

Sounds warm and wonderful, and like everything's still working just fine, most-of-a-year after the last public lj posts about your optimistic and in-character beginnings. At our house, the things-that-might-someday-bear-fruit are only naked sticks poking daunted-ly out of cold mud, but the older maples have grown a moppy, limp, head-in-need-of-a-haircut crop of spring leaves, finally, so at least there's promise brewing.

I miss livejournal this morning. I don't write much at the other blog because nobody comes over there to read it, even though there's a circle there, of course; why would anybody read something I rarely bother writing? Still, Lj had a sense of talking-to to it; "grown-up" wordpress sites just feel like talking to one's self. And if I were going to do that, I'd much rather have a sunny chair and some cinnamon to go with it (even if it would have to be just livening up warm milk, since the coffee's on the no-list...)