It is September - magic month. The irrigated pastures are still a brilliant green, but all is edged in gold. The world rushes to set seed, the annuals finishing their life cycle, the perennials battening down for winter. Things have slowed down a bit on the ranch. We’re soaking up these last indian summer days, finding odds and ends chores before the varied autumn work that awaits a ranch as the days get shorter.
My husband was working on the garage today, a sure sign of Fall. We’ve been in our “new” house for ten years now and there are still those projects hanging over us, like finishing the garage walls that we should have let the contractor do back when we built the house.
I had been visiting my folks who live about 10 miles from here. I took Mom a bouquet of black-eyed susans, maroon chokecherry leaves, orange and rust blanket flowers – and the star of the bouquet, rabbit brush in full golden bloom. She didn’t actually see the bouquet though, as she is bed-bound and not that interested anymore. At 88, she is winding down. Like a gray-headed dandelion, she waits for the next tender breeze to lift her gently away to parts unknown - to float, her mind clear again. And so I visit often, coming home each time a little subdued. Mark knows only to ask, “how were things today?”
So after I had busied myself for a few minutes, pre-heating the oven for supper and letting the dogs loose for their evening run, I went to him and hugged his warm and familiar chest.
“Here, listen to this,” he said, pulling his ipod out of his shirt pocket and finding a song.
He tucked one ear phone in my ear and left one in his. I was expecting something sad and heartfelt, but no, it was upbeat. The Drifters sang, “when I’m in your embrace, something happens to me that’s some kind of wonderful.”
We swayed in time with the music and I felt the familiar rush of this man who understands me - who forgives me. And my world was perfect.
|rabbit brush frames the chicken coop|