Last Friday, Ginny and I took our kids to Raleigh and the Sunflower Field at Dorothea Dix Park. Although we had planned to arrive as the fiery ball set in the sky, it was still hot and humid.
The yard sign stuck in a neighbor’s mulch prohibits “tres-pooping” and is aimed at the trespassing dogs (not Spanish-speaking ones). However, the most egregious scatological sinners are the Canada geese (Branta canadensis).
Andrea Gibson died on July 14. I admired their poetry, most especially their bravery to accept their mortality after learning of their terminal ovarian cancer.
This year, we took our dog to the beach, where she avoided the waves and the seagulls avoided her; however, she did roll in fish guts when I wasn’t paying attention.
Doodle — funny word, right? “To scrawl aimlessly,” according to Etymology Online, and doodle is also linked lexically with “dawdle,” that is, “to fritter away time.”
We escaped the heat and humidity of the Triangle for a few days in the mountains. The fallen trees across the creek are reminders of the fury of Hurricane Helene, but businesses in the little town are open. After supper, we walked to buy ice cream. Sugared-up and excited, our kids chased fireflies in a grassy field beyond a parking lot.
The Carolina men’s baseball season ended with a whimper last Sunday in Boshamer Stadium. I never played at that high level of competition, but I remember the tears after a season-ending loss.