There's one heck of a rain storm going on right now. Just enough lightning to be dazzling, the rain lashing at the roof and the patio tiles. I've got the back door open, the screen door latched in place, and the smell of earth and water and ozone is rolling into the kitchen where I sit here typing with my half-glass of wine.
Summer is finally here, in all her glory. The flowers - the ones that survived our four-degree winter - are throbbing with color and silky texture. The afternoons grow heavy with humidity and press low over the pasture. The horses swish flies and want to go out early and come in at four, anxious for a shower and the box fans in their stalls. Everywhere is the droning of bees, the call of mockingbirds, the languid siren song of the sun. This is summer in the South. This is early mornings in the dew, tinny radios, afternoons in the AC and evening drinks in the outdoors.
Last night, my mom and I had a girls' night with homemade queso fundido and strawberry daiquiris at the pond. I love a rare, quiet Friday. A little reading time. So perfect.