Observing July

Found this old story I wrote in a journal a few years back, from a previous life. Thought it fitting on this July eve sitting by the fire.

— -

My stove snaps and grumbles as it quietly snacks on the wood I feed it, loyal like my old dog was. I sit by the window observing the world with eyes closed. The window doesn’t close fully and I recline in my chair leaning onto its peeling frame to let the wind blow across me in. The fire warms me and the chilled air cools and I can’t make up my mind on which I prefer.

My legs and arms are crossed with my hands buried deep into my armpits. I have to extract them to sit up and toss the stove another bone, and I miss the outside air washing my face. The Kanuka is dry and burns quick and the smell leaves me wanting to smoke a fish. With pose resumed I close my eyes again.

The rain is clapping onto the thin and very tin roof; its waves of applause almost smother the sound of the fires delight. It teams together with the wind from time to time and manage a splash of droplets across my face. I know the surprise is coming but can’t stop my eyelids flinching, no matter how hard I try. I smile at the rains game, with the cooler of my cheeks rising slower and stiff.

Out in the greyness, beyond the baubles of water on the pane, through the essence of smoked snapper, past the waving Toi-toi and behind the drenched and exhausted dunes come beats of the waves. Kkrooowwkkkshhccccssssshhhh. I try to count them, sometimes two or three at the same time.

I stretch out further in my chair re-crossing my legs with left over right this time. I dry my face on my sleeve and close my eyes again. They all vie for my attention. I just sit and observe, letting my mind filter each sound in turn.

snap, tip tap tappy tip
fhewww e ewwww splash
tippity, snap, tip tap, kkrooowwwkkkkssshhhcccssssshhhhhhh.

I’m observing this July day with resting eyes.