Evening in the garden
Jul. 26th, 2006 08:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustSince we had missed ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
samarcand's birthday party, though not his birthday, which comes later, we spent yesterday evening with him and Candy and Max.
We found them all in the garden: a comfortable sized space, with a patch of lawn, a row of sunflowers and a barbecue. They had spread a rug in the shade of the fence, and piled cushions on it and somehow arranged for the weather, after a hot day, to be mild and pleasant. We played ball with Max, who, at very nearly three, likes the idea of a game where he throws the ball and it is returned to him, but hasn't quite worked out that catching it means doing more than cupping his hands in front of him. So the game offers the challenge of returning the ball to Max without either dropping it at his feet or bopping him on the nose - and, of course, of blocking its tendency to roll under the barbecue. Meanwhile, Candy prodded the barbecue with an air of expertise, and in due course announced that it was time for Max's bath, after which the barbecue would be ready for use.
A couple of seagulls squabbled over the roof opposite.
Then there was a clean Max to be kissed goodnight, and a delicious dinner of spicy sausages and burgers and buttery potatoes crispy hot from the oven, and bottles left from the party, not to mention a variety of cakes - there was even a remnant of Superman cake, but none of us felt quite brave enough to eat it: the icing was very blue. And there were birthday sweeties with our coffee.
By now the light was fading, to the point where we were discussing whether the sky was actually cloudless, or just hazy, or whether we could maybe make out one or two wisps of cloud; until the clouds began to glow a soft pink, which answered that question. There were swallows wheeling very high overhead. Candy told us this meant that the air pressure was high (so the insects were flying high, and the swallows following them), but I just lay back and watched them.
It was a lovely evening of doing nothing, and being looked after, and good conversation; perhaps because I was being idle, just sitting back and letting things happen, I had the oddest feeling that there was not so much a succession of things to do as a sequence of seasons, and I was just watching them roll by.
samarcand's birthday party, though not his birthday, which comes later, we spent yesterday evening with him and Candy and Max.We found them all in the garden: a comfortable sized space, with a patch of lawn, a row of sunflowers and a barbecue. They had spread a rug in the shade of the fence, and piled cushions on it and somehow arranged for the weather, after a hot day, to be mild and pleasant. We played ball with Max, who, at very nearly three, likes the idea of a game where he throws the ball and it is returned to him, but hasn't quite worked out that catching it means doing more than cupping his hands in front of him. So the game offers the challenge of returning the ball to Max without either dropping it at his feet or bopping him on the nose - and, of course, of blocking its tendency to roll under the barbecue. Meanwhile, Candy prodded the barbecue with an air of expertise, and in due course announced that it was time for Max's bath, after which the barbecue would be ready for use.
A couple of seagulls squabbled over the roof opposite.
Then there was a clean Max to be kissed goodnight, and a delicious dinner of spicy sausages and burgers and buttery potatoes crispy hot from the oven, and bottles left from the party, not to mention a variety of cakes - there was even a remnant of Superman cake, but none of us felt quite brave enough to eat it: the icing was very blue. And there were birthday sweeties with our coffee.
By now the light was fading, to the point where we were discussing whether the sky was actually cloudless, or just hazy, or whether we could maybe make out one or two wisps of cloud; until the clouds began to glow a soft pink, which answered that question. There were swallows wheeling very high overhead. Candy told us this meant that the air pressure was high (so the insects were flying high, and the swallows following them), but I just lay back and watched them.
It was a lovely evening of doing nothing, and being looked after, and good conversation; perhaps because I was being idle, just sitting back and letting things happen, I had the oddest feeling that there was not so much a succession of things to do as a sequence of seasons, and I was just watching them roll by.
