Once I saw the grass this morning, I realized how much I missed it. Even when I watch the babbling commercials on the boob tube, I look beyond the product for that bright sun shining on the delightful summer's day that many seem to be filmed during. The Hammond Lumber Company commercial is one of those. I imagine rolling around letting the blades of grass graze my arms and face. I already see myself, Corona in hand, fishing off the back of a boat, catching something big, and frying it up over the campfire.
In California, it would be smeltering and the shade meant nothing to preventing heat exhaustion. I'd take a shower, dry off, only to be drenched once again in sweat. But no, Maine is the creme-de-la-creme of all summertime locations.
Although, it is quite a drag that all the tourists agree with that, crowding up our parks, trails, and carriage roads. Its not very pleasant to be standing at the foot of Mt. Katahdin enjoying it's majestic beauty, anticipating you won't be alone for long. The Jordan Pondhouse will never be empty once that first day of summer comes.
I guess I should be fair, not that I have a choice, and share this glory of nature with all the tourists. I admit I was once just a part of the invasion.
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2 comments:
Glad to read whatever (saving poetry or fiction) you'd like to show me--but is this journal or just spring fever talking itself out?
Around my house, alas, my grass is all covered in dog and horse shit....
Wow, you give me images of pure nastiness. Congrats.
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