Saturday, June 20, 2009
Against prediction ... a day without rain. So far, 7 AM. The weather's been anyone's guess these days and they've all been wrong.
Biked to garden, a 25 minute ride Dot door to Fens gate, all downhill or flat, except for the bridge over the Orange line by New England Conservatory. Everything damp, fragrant, rain soaked, humid, dripping, filled out and lushly green
Parked my bike leaning against the compost pile. The usual spot is lost in a cascade of soaked grape leaves, droplets glistening from every sharp leaf lobe. Cloudy, but no rain. Yet. Kick back under the grape arbor with the iBook in my lap. Accompanied by bird chorale. The city hushed and far away. Writing about ... compost.
Posted by Tales of a Seaside Inn at 7:02 AM