My favorite time to write are Sunday nights. But the Sundays I hand Day off to his mom are just the worst, so I held off. I’m trying to avoid writing when I’m feeling down. I’m trying to avoid feeling down in general. So this week I’m launching myself into distractions, which include fixing up two old chairs.
I live in a community of 8 small houses built 20 years ago on the site of an old homestead orchard. Most of the houses are summer homes for people who primarily live in Seattle. On Sunday one of my lady neighbors asked if I could unload two boxes of new patio chairs from her car, which of course led to me putting them together. In exchange, she gave me her two old Adirondacks, which had been destined for the dump.
They had integrated footstools, which I was able to remove, chop up, and use to fix the chairs themselves. Fixing them was easy and quick, since I decided not to refinish them. I like things to be structurally sound but don’t care too much if they look pretty.
These chairs have revolutionized the back yard. Now, along with the new hammock, my lazy summer afternoons are complete. The chair on the little back deck is repaired, comfortable, and a lovely place to sit and watch things like this blacktail doe stopping by to take a pee.
The heat of the day dissipates, the evening air warms the earth in its summer glow, and my tummy rumbles, anticipating a dinner of lemon/rosemary chicken and pasta. I’m supposed to be reviewing a final divorce proposal, but all I can do is soak in the beauty before me, try out this Argentinian Sangiovese, and enjoy the changing light of the summer sun setting through the salty air, a cool northerly breeze fresh off the Salish Sea, just three blocks away.