The air hung heavy between those draped on sofa, chair, or sturdy wall. Like Fitzgerald's heatwave in The Great Gatsby or Williams' Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, the heat oppressed to the point of becoming the lead in a drama unfolding with every beaded brow. "I'm bored," moaned Rachel, while Lydia paced from window to window like a confined cat. "Turn on the air," I gasped, "I am suffocating." Days on end we sat trapped by the "fine particles" labeled villainous by the Air Quality Board. The Day of Rest fast approached Rest-less. To top it off, Elizabeth's fiance, David, arrived Saturday from Orange County for a summertime respite among the trees and fresh-air fun of the Sierras. On his first visit, last December, a blizzard blew in that tore shingles off the roof, downed the electricity, and trapped us in a board-game twilight zone . (We resist the temptation to identify patterns of natural disasters associated with David's visits.)
"Look!" called Gary excitedly, "Blue sky! I see blue sky." Languidly I shifted my form to catch a glimpse of something less gray, but certainly not blue peeking above the trees (which I could actually identify as trees now). "Gray with a hint of something," I responded, "But not blue." *sigh* Back to more measured conversations about books, history, politics, and other topics serving to confirm that we retained operating gray cells despite the looming grey cloak around our world.
"Look!" called Gary excitedly, "Blue sky! I see blue sky." Languidly I shifted my form to catch a glimpse of something less gray, but certainly not blue peeking above the trees (which I could actually identify as trees now). "Gray with a hint of something," I responded, "But not blue." *sigh* Back to more measured conversations about books, history, politics, and other topics serving to confirm that we retained operating gray cells despite the looming grey cloak around our world.
A spirited bird shot past the window and as my eyes followed its route to the fountain I caught a glimpse of periwinkle breaking the gray monotony. We then proceeded to watch and label the deepening hues of blue like a game. We laughed to see french blue turn to cornflower and on down the line to "really blue," even dreaming of lapis lazuli and cerulean studded with diamond-like stars. Oh how we have missed the stars! As the blue deepened, smiles spread, fingers tapped, and life returned to once benumbed limbs.
"Can we eat outdoors?" I burst, "I so miss it!"
"I'll check and let you know," and off Gary went on a reconnaissance mission.
We waited. We smiled. He returned.
We waited. We smiled. He returned.
"Blue sky and visibility improved; no smoke smell. Let's do it!"
We jumped to action: boiling pasta, seasoning sauces, sauteing spinach, brewing iced tea. Not wishing to heat the oven, I opted to break up delicious dark chocolate and mound it temptingly into bowls for that sweet final note to the meal. Everyone pitched in and carried the feast out into the open brightness of the coming eve. Like mole people, we squinted and shaded our eyes. Like newly-freed inmates we lost words in the face of such an expansive view.
We thanked the Lord for the meal (and I secretly added a pleased note that my sanity had been spared ... though it looked dicey there for a while) and launched into the wholehearted joy of eating en plein air once again. I overheard Elizabeth tell David, "This is our summertime dining room."
Ah yes, a return to the familiar becomes such a blessing when we lose its grasp for a time.
After dinner we lingered, savored the chocolate and music, and dreamed about seeing stars again. "Dad, wanna swim?" queried Matthew. "Did you hear that?" I burst out, "That's the first time he's ever said that!" (Life with autism causes one to celebrate the simplest steps as miraculous.) Blue skies truly are smilin' at me!
Later at the pool we frolicked, watched eagerly for the Big Dipper, and squealed with delight as the bats swooped and swallowed the bugs dancing in the light. Even a snake in the pool couldn't dull the playful mood. Thinking it was a worm, David picked it up and gave it a fling. The sudden look of puzzlement caused us to pause. "I think that was a snake," said the city boy apprehensively. Yep, sure enough. The stunned reptile came slithering back our way, but a few splashes of water got him moving along. (Now, how many of you just changed your mind about seeking an invite to come swim? It was quite tiny and totally harmless unless you're a bug -- trust me.)
And so we sat out under the twinkling stars, roasting marshmallows, and praising the Lord for blue skies that smiled on us (along with a quick prayer that they continue smiling on us tomorrow). : )
