The aging sentinels, a trio of spartan evergreens, towered over the quieting waters, the dead needles now outnumbering the living. The only noise in the breezeless evening was the harangue of birdcalls in the uppermost, less denuded branches. Even in flight there was no noticeable sound, their wingbeats effortless without the need to battle any headwinds. The recent rains had not been enough to bring the lawn back to a fully verdant green again, yet the expanding patches of yellow would easily give way to life with a good quenching, when it came. This year . . or next.
The white supporting poles creaked gently when I propelled myself through the chlorinated pool waters, my head alone above the rippled surface. There should have been a placid peace in the absence of movement in the prairie air, but the unfamiliarity of it, coupled with an uneasy sense of an immutable tension that I could not quite define, made it feel more faintly eerie than tranquil. The winds would return. Whispering, caressing, hissing or howling, sometimes even raging. Welcomed and cooling and merry, persistent and churlish and destructive, it was so much a part of our world. To not have it was as if granted respite.
Sunlight, unmasked by clouds, was losing her strength she drifted down behind the crown of maples and ash trees to the west. The tiny fretwork of spider webs that had draped in gossamer canopies over several patches in the lawn and in the bloomless dianthus bed had mysteriously disappeared, and the drought had mercifully left few suitable places for the winged and biting insects to breed. The absences, all of them, felt like crossroads.
The long row of lilacs, planted by mistake . . . he wanted a hedge he could keep trimmed down neatly like they did in town, thinking he could tame and train the lilacs just as easily and any other ol’ hedge . . were once again even and relatively equal after the devastation of the 25 foot snowbanks a decade ago. The melt had taken forever, and left them mangled and broken. A casual passerby nowadays would never have known it.
We were strongly cautioned by the previous owners not to plant too closely to the roadway, but he decided to risk it. It hasn’t snowed like that since, although we may lose the hedge afterall next year when they widen the road.
You simply cannot anticipate everything.
The white supporting poles creaked gently when I propelled myself through the chlorinated pool waters, my head alone above the rippled surface. There should have been a placid peace in the absence of movement in the prairie air, but the unfamiliarity of it, coupled with an uneasy sense of an immutable tension that I could not quite define, made it feel more faintly eerie than tranquil. The winds would return. Whispering, caressing, hissing or howling, sometimes even raging. Welcomed and cooling and merry, persistent and churlish and destructive, it was so much a part of our world. To not have it was as if granted respite.
Sunlight, unmasked by clouds, was losing her strength she drifted down behind the crown of maples and ash trees to the west. The tiny fretwork of spider webs that had draped in gossamer canopies over several patches in the lawn and in the bloomless dianthus bed had mysteriously disappeared, and the drought had mercifully left few suitable places for the winged and biting insects to breed. The absences, all of them, felt like crossroads.
The long row of lilacs, planted by mistake . . . he wanted a hedge he could keep trimmed down neatly like they did in town, thinking he could tame and train the lilacs just as easily and any other ol’ hedge . . were once again even and relatively equal after the devastation of the 25 foot snowbanks a decade ago. The melt had taken forever, and left them mangled and broken. A casual passerby nowadays would never have known it.
We were strongly cautioned by the previous owners not to plant too closely to the roadway, but he decided to risk it. It hasn’t snowed like that since, although we may lose the hedge afterall next year when they widen the road.
You simply cannot anticipate everything.
