Have I told you about summer evenings in Walla Walla?
Did I tell you about the first night I was in Walla Walla with Dave, sipping icy Coronas on his parents deck, staring at a million stars dusted over a black velvet sky, the air beginning to cool, the heat still drifting up from the pavement, the wood of the deck railing still warm to the touch, the smell of the onion fields, the rhythmic ch-ch-ch of the irrigation sprinklers...and Dave...leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, a smile on his face, his cap turned backwards, his boots propped up on the chair..."It doesn't get any better than this, Shelley. It just doesn't."
As in so many things, he was right. Completely right. There isn't anything better. And I don't mean just the Walla Walla part. (Although that one evening is the single reason Dave could convince me to move here.) There is something so deeply satisfying about that feeling, when you've put in a long, hard day, working or driving or whatever, out in the hot sun, and then, when the sun goes down, feeling the coolness of the night begin to cover the day, feeling the ache across your shoulders and the iciness of a cold drink, beads of water rolling over your fingers, and seeing the one you love most, nearby, content, relaxed, happy to just be together.
I imagine that is happening in more places than Walla Walla. In Chicago and Auburn and Kelso and Long Beach and Puyallup and Seattle and New York.
Tonight, I stood in our driveway, an ache in my back from mowing the lawn, my legs stinging with a million little scratches from laying bark, my hands throbbing from wielding a shovel. I breathed deeply, feeling the tinge of cool in the still-warm air and saw a full moon, shadowy light filling our yard. It felt good. Felt good to work hard when it's 93 degrees outside. Felt good to accomplish something. And it felt good to breathe deeply of that Walla Walla summer night air.
Clink! This one's for you, Dave.
Did I tell you about the first night I was in Walla Walla with Dave, sipping icy Coronas on his parents deck, staring at a million stars dusted over a black velvet sky, the air beginning to cool, the heat still drifting up from the pavement, the wood of the deck railing still warm to the touch, the smell of the onion fields, the rhythmic ch-ch-ch of the irrigation sprinklers...and Dave...leaning back in his chair, eyes closed, a smile on his face, his cap turned backwards, his boots propped up on the chair..."It doesn't get any better than this, Shelley. It just doesn't."
As in so many things, he was right. Completely right. There isn't anything better. And I don't mean just the Walla Walla part. (Although that one evening is the single reason Dave could convince me to move here.) There is something so deeply satisfying about that feeling, when you've put in a long, hard day, working or driving or whatever, out in the hot sun, and then, when the sun goes down, feeling the coolness of the night begin to cover the day, feeling the ache across your shoulders and the iciness of a cold drink, beads of water rolling over your fingers, and seeing the one you love most, nearby, content, relaxed, happy to just be together.
I imagine that is happening in more places than Walla Walla. In Chicago and Auburn and Kelso and Long Beach and Puyallup and Seattle and New York.
Tonight, I stood in our driveway, an ache in my back from mowing the lawn, my legs stinging with a million little scratches from laying bark, my hands throbbing from wielding a shovel. I breathed deeply, feeling the tinge of cool in the still-warm air and saw a full moon, shadowy light filling our yard. It felt good. Felt good to work hard when it's 93 degrees outside. Felt good to accomplish something. And it felt good to breathe deeply of that Walla Walla summer night air.
Clink! This one's for you, Dave.
Wow, how powerful!
ReplyDeleteSo many of us are glad Dave coaxed you to Walla Walla on a "summer night." If he hadn't we might never have crossed paths. It is kind of weird sometimes to think back and look at the beginning of the puzzle, then the puzzle where it is now and wonder how that puzzle will finish. The puzzle makes lots of twists and turns we just don't expect; some good, some not so good but we always make it through.
Beautiful entry. Here's to that loveliness.
ReplyDeleteWow Chelle ... as the sun goes down tonight I'll hold my glass to the sky and toast to all our loved ones ... so many ... Dave, Fred, Lou, Lori, Dennis, Iris, Judy, Mom, Jill ... too many too list ...not all gone from cancer, but still ... all gone too soon.
ReplyDeleteCheers my friend.
This is a poem I wrote for you Michelle
ReplyDeleteYour story inspired me:
The hot air
Has left with the clouds
Blowing in the warm winds
And is replaced by a humid coolness
With the floors still hot
From the sun
Beating down on them
All day long
The frost covered glass
I hold loosely in my hand
Numbs my fingers
And my palm
As the sunset darkens his face
Into a silhouette
With a smile
He pulls me close
And I can feel the heat from his body
Warming me
As the temperature drops
And day
Sinks into night
I hope you liked it
I love and miss you so much
<3 Sonja
Sonja,
ReplyDeleteThat is beautiful, absolutely beautiful. You write directly to my heart. I love you so much.
We're planning a Seattle trip...we leave from SeaTac for Chicago on July 23...what are you and your family doing the 21st & 22nd???
Love to you all.
Michelle it is so nice to see you writting. Always so nice to hear all your memories, makes me smile.
ReplyDeleteI have to tell you your hill out front looks so nice. When I was there and dropped off the cartridges it shows you have been busy with yard work. Hope you had a nice long weekend. Weather was great here.
Kathie
Ah my country mouse friend, I love this post. I can just smell, feel, taste Walla Walla. It sounds alot like the area downstate where Lou grew up, in the cornfields of Illinois.
ReplyDeleteNow then, you don't REALLY think us city mouses do back breaking work, do you?? Well, I will admit, my new tomato plant in my window is taking alot of my time...wink wink.
Here's to a good summer. Summer is good, even with the sweat and hard work, it's good.
Love you my friend,
Cath
www.lessonsfromlou.blogspot.com