The Slow-Cooked Sentence

My weather report

Rachael Conlin Levy

Ivan and I left the house at eight-thirty this morning. He skipped ahead, swinging a sack lunch with a sunbutter sandwich inside, and a cloth bag that would carry home a pumpkin he would pick from the farm his kindergarten class was visiting today. We crossed the street, walking out from under the weeping birch and into an open sky awakening with color. The air was crisp, and the sun blinding white. I searched and found clouds like torn spiderwebs. Today would be a blue sky day, the second blue sky day.


Yesterday my friend and I walked for two hours, down a hillside, past a strip of beach choppy with waves, along a bike path, and back up the hill. At the top, we stopped at a small cafe for green chai tea and a shared blueberry scone, but even then we didn’t go in, preferring chairs in the sun so we could shade our eyes and enjoy the inconvenience. After almost two weeks of fog, the sun’s appearance is a celebration, and today, today, was a second blue sky day. Back home I studied shadows cast against wall and table, sun refracting in my glass, and beauty found in a scratched and watermarked kitchen table that’s bathed in warm light.



I discovered Ivan’s water bottle forgotten on the kitchen counter. I’m happy his field trip is today and not tomorrow, with its forecast for clouds and its anticipation of rain. Today must be lived outside, and I wonder what I will do, what beckons? There are groceries that need purchasing, things that need to be returned or exchanged, but these are sojourners into outside as I walk from house to car and car to store and back again. I want a longer stay but one with purpose, because without movement the cold will chill and stiffen muscle. Yesterday’s wind blew the leaves out of the yard. The garden needs a thick layer of mulch but a truckload has yet to be ordered and delivered, which means the ground will remain exposed to errant weed and unwanted seedling for still one more day. Inside, laundry beckons, as does an essay for revisions, but … but … tomorrow’s gray and damp is better suited for such drudgery. Today the sun visits.


3 responses to “My weather report”

  1. Yay for sun and pumpkins. Love the hydrangea photo.

  2. Andrea says:

    Lovely. This time of year the sun is a gift not to be taken for granted.

  3. I hope you kicked all or at least most responsibility to the curb and indulged in your blue sky day.

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