River Brown

Last night, the moon shone annoyingly bright, harshly filling the kitchen and laundry room windows, spilling on the floor.  In my room with shades drawn, still I knew it was shining in that bleach white way and sleep evaded me.  It shone inside my cranium, cratered with the stress of the day.

So, today at school, among the conferences, reading groups, and reports to write, I settled in the way the sky has clouded up and (unlike me) —yawned.  After school I drove out to the teacher resource place to see if I could find goodies for kids making dioramas and that put me in the 5 o’clock commute to get home.  We lurched and stalled and slowly made our way down old Oakland Road, with the overcast evening and my ho-hum state of mind in tune.  I don’t do well with sleep deprivation.

But when I got to my driveway, and opened the back gate to garage the car, there was a spicy scent in the back yard. It said welcome.  It said there are lovely things here. Did something bloom?  Or the redwood tree released an aroma now that the air is filled with moisture?

The spice smelled like the good, restful part of being home.  And, when I made my sister’s recipe for healthy pancakes for supper — replete with chia seed, buckwheat, and flax meal, the cakes on the fry pan smelled fresh and full.  A sweetness of grains, similar to the dry sweetness in the back yard.

The moon will only wane a bit tonight, but the cloud cover and the promise of showers will soften the effect.  And pancakes say curl up with your Kindle and read yourself to sleep.

Perhaps there will be a tap tap tune from the downspouts and gutter tonight.