Sunday Evening, Full Dark

I toted an extension ladder about 100 yards this evening and I feel like I fought with the devil all day.

My lassitude isn’t helped by the supper Mrs. Orr fixed, which was smoked pork chops, butterpeas with bacon, cornbread, and baked taters.

We took all of the dogs for a walk in early evening, and it seems to have worn them out. Usually at this time of night, they’re getting on our nerves and testing the limits. Right now, it’s snores, cubed.

We did a bit of our own snoring earlier today. My wife and I kwiled up and took a long, long nap. We woke up, assessed the clock situation, allowed as to how we’d slept the day away, and felt not a moment’s twinge of guilt.

Most of the day was spent reading. Each of us are working on books that have surprised us with how good they are and how loathe we are to finish them. I’m parceling mine out with such a miser’s touch that I can barely make it through a paragraph without stopping and trying to stretch it out.

The weeping willow leaves looked gray and smoky today, to the point where the very air around the tree looked as if something were smoldering behind it. It did better this summer than at any time since I planted it several years ago. It has achieved the proper droopy and lachrymose aspect.

It was one of those October days that was so lovely, so perfect, it made me immensely sad. A hiraeth day. We sat on the front porch and talked of forlorn family matters and long ago days and those things that bring mystery and majesty to our married life.

And now the day is done, and we will soon close our eyes and go to wherever we go when the dark is full and long, and perhaps we will open our eyes in the morning and see a newly-stamped world, gleaming and humming like blue electricity in our very own wires.

~ S. K. Orr