We pass the graveyard where headstones stamped like cookies lined up on a baking sheet tempt him to stop, look, and sniff, but then he tugs me on. We leave behind the air waiting for prayers, for visitors to smooth crisscrossing paths in the grass, the moss-covered crosses slippery as banana peels.
The sun is breathing yellow everywhere but it feels blue.
Along the way we pass four playgrounds, all but one empty, where my boy races through the sand kicking up joy and trapping it in his fur. This is the witching hour, a dent in the day just before supper, when children squall and mothers, weary from work, work, work, bring their toddlers outside to play, while the ragout stews in the slow cooker, filling the house with relief. Outside, the frying pan sky is burning leaves for dinner.
We aren’t tired yet. My knee, which likes to remind me that it is as fragile as yesterday’s sunset, is silent. I toss a stick: “Go get it!”
Mothers and toddlers are laughing, as easy as rolling cookie dough, their long, black shadows flickering against the leaves in the short light.
At my feet the mutt gurgle-growls, grips the stick urging me to play, so we stay – throwing, chasing, throwing, chasing, throwing. Children whiz down the slides, leaves in streams. More laughing. My boy can’t find the stick, searches for it in the mottled grass. I call and we go home, past the graveyard and three empty playgrounds.
*The Tower of Song by Leonard Cohen
This writing is like the ripples in you new gravatar! Soft – spaced – constant – lovely…
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You are a kind and generous person, Bruce. I’m working on metaphors and similes (is it obvious or what?) and I applied my efforts to describing a beautiful dinner time walk el poochy and I took last week.
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Ah. Lovely. Of course, I love cemeteries and playgrounds and dogs. But beyond that, your prose is gorgeous.
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Yes, I know how you love your dogs! I’ve been admiring your rich writing for a while, Jan, so it pleases me no end that you read and commented on this post.
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‘The sun is breathing yellow everywhere, but it feels blue.” Nice!
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Fall is such a wistful season and the colours so happy and cheerful but I always feel nostalgic and restless at this time of year.
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Gorgeous lyrical writing. Very evocative.
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I had to look up lyrical writing the other day because it’s something that has been mentioned a few times. What a lovely compliment. Thank you!
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I really enjoy your writing style Susanne!
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Hi Michael, so glad you took a moment to read this post. I think you like fall, too, judging from all your gorgeous fall photos.
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Your writing transports me to the moment Sue. Beautiful.
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If I’d sat a little longer with this bit of writing I’d have found a way to link the longing to be closer to playground days than graveyard days. Anyway, glad you were transported to our pretty walk.
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Beautiful text and photos
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I thank thee, Sir Derrick of the beautiful garden photography! These were taken with my phone hence the reason for keeping them small in scale as their quality is grainy. Still, they caught the golden hour.
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A painterly stroll in the park, deftly described, evoking the colors and transiency of autumn, where children’s voices pierce the crisp air and mothers try, mostly in vain, to wind down and exorcise the stolid tension of the day. Beautifully written, Sue.
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As I just said to my friend the Cheergerm, I wish I’d found a way to link the longing to be closer to playground days than graveyard days.
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So beautifully written Sue, vivid and evocative. Love it!
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I’m having a total blast with an on-line writing course, Shelley, which inspired the metaphors and similes in this post. Clearly, I’m not of the “Hemingway” school of writing!
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Lovely. You captured beautifully a fleeting moment–that time of day in that most fleeting and lovely season. Love the way you play with imagery and language.
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I was deliberately playing with language, Megan, and it was fun!
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Fall is such a wistful season and the colours so happy and cheerful but I always feel nostalgic and restless at this time of year. Yes Susanne I couldn’t agree with you more as I recall getting to know a very special person this time of year and she still is. (;
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In years past I found fall made me restless but not so much this year. Oh yes, those lovely adolescent falls that were never the end and always the beginning. Maybe that’s why I used to get restless – the start of the school year in September when everything seems possible. That was a beautiful fall all those years ago, JB. Thanks for reminding me.
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I love “my boy.” Beautiful mood and images created. Putting your new blog on my blog list b/c I realized it’s not on there.
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Thanks, Luanne. I’m meandering all over the place these days with posts, mostly stretching my writing muscles. Blogging keeps me going.
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That’s how we grow, I think!
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