A Day Of Rest?

6:19

Our House

It's 6:55 as I start this and I will be out kayaking soon enough.  It's another warm and sunny morning on the lake but the boat traffic has ebbed as usual on a Monday morning. It's a big day for us as we are supposedly getting a new boiler put in and I am driving to Cleveland, hitting Trader Joe's, Azman's meats, stocking up for our kid's arrival, then having lunch with my sister in Euclid, a busy day.

Kayak Morning

Bald Eagle

Yesterday was a day of rest except for the morning I guess.  After the kayaking, breakfast, and blog, Evie had the grand idea to wash more windows, those few that we had not gotten to so far. By the time we got to it, it was already 80º so even though I was out for less than a half an hour, my shirt was soaking when I finished. Evie of course, washed the screen and the inside of the windows so we have done all of the downstairs windows I hope.

Evie's Phlox

I needed a couple of things from Home Depot so I took off around 11:30, ran in, picked up what I needed and was home by12:30 even though the roads and Home Depot were busy.  Evie made us avocado toasts for brunch and we relaxed the rest of the afternoon, as it was uncomfortable warm both in the house and outside.  I did nap briefly and Evie was able to sit out under a tree, catch a breeze and enjoy the late afternoon.

Evie's Photo Of Me Taking A Photo

Around 5;30, Evie put together our dinner, chicken, broccoli, and mushrooms with an Indian flavored simmer sauce.  We then relaxed on the porch with a Manhattan and a big bowl of popcorn and watched as lake traffic slowly diminished, the sun dimmed.  It was Sunday night, after all, when the weekenders head home. Dinner was great, on rice, with yogurt and we watched more of our series, The Mosquito Coast, and some basketball before doing to bed.

One of my favorite American poets, Stephen Dunn, died this weekend. Below is one of my favorites of his poems, a paean to old basketball players like me. 

LOSING STEPS

It's probably a Sunday morning

in a pickup game, and it's clear

you've begun to leave

fewer people behind.

Your fakes are as good as ever,

but when you move

you're like the Southern Pacific

the first time a car kept up with it,

your opponent at your hip,

with you all the way

to the rim. Five years earlier

he'd have been part of the air

that stayed behind you

in your ascendance.

On the sidelines they're saying,

He's lost a step

2

In a few more years

it's adult night in a gymnasium

streaked with the abrupt scuff marks

of high schoolers, and another step

leaves you like a wire

burned out in a radio.