remember those signs of hope? they're still around. they tiptoe up out of the earth and shine through as the north star in the night. these are of the earth-bound kind.
this is just one of my bougainvillea. (a word i like both to look at and say--a five dollar word you might call it. say it with me now: boug-ain-vill-ea.) dried up and depressing to look at just days after their arrival, they have been gloriously revived. plucky little things, aren't they? and pretty too. almost makes you want to hum a little tune or whisper some thank yous to the breeze.
the breeze itself is another thing to be thankful for right now. alas, the summer heat has fallen on austin like an old, wet mop. splat. not exactly a pretty metaphor, but it fits. it felt like 90 degrees at 2 am this morning. i know because i was out and about. unusual for me to be out that late, but my little brother was in town and i had the opportunity to sit and talk and just listen with friends who've been missing for a little while and who i've missed. it was nice.
and then a drive home to walk evita under a starlit sky of deepest india ink. i think people should go walking in the middle of the night more often. the early morning too. that's when the world seems more solemn and joyful, more freeing and true, than any church or cathedral. and when you pray--whether out loud or just in your heart, whether you call it praying or just talking to yourself--you can almost hear, and almost feel, someone answering back.
]]>