Late Tuesday afternoon was so beautiful and such a perfect temperature that John and I took a chilled bottle of white wine down to the pond to enjoy the wisteria's last shout.
It was around five and the light had that luminescent 'Golden Hour' quality.
Though the blossoms were fading, the wisteria's fragrance was strong, enveloping us in a sweet cloud.
The long shadows of a golden afternoon.
As I typed the title of the post, I thought of how MAYDAY is a recognized cry of distress (from the French m'aidez - help me.) And I thought, not for the first time, how this pandemic could be seen as a cry for help from the earth--as mankind's pollution is increasingly shut down, the earth begins to recover. And how nice it would be if we learn something from this timeout--the importance of the unseen workers we all depend on, the inequalities inherent in our political system, what things in our lives are necessary and what is excess . . . and the simple fact that we're all in this together.
