Keepers of the rocks

This afternoon, I went to Cushing to visit my friend Terry. Her house overlooks the St. George River, which is so tidal that the air has a lovely, salty smell. The day was everything a summer day should be—warm but not too hot with a bright blue sky. Terry bought lobster rolls that were chock-full of lobster meat with just a hint of mayonnaise to hold it together. I brought grapes and sparkling water. As we ate our feast outside, we talked about her parents, who were farmers, and gardening and growing old. Her three cats swished around us. One of them, a big orange tiger, nearly caught a red squirrel.

“Go!” I said to the squirrel.

“Good!” Terry said when I told her the squirrel had gotten away.

For his part, the orange cat let out one frustrated yowl and sharpened his claws on a nearby log. You could almost hear him saying, “Next time, you little fiend!”

After lunch, we walked around the house and admired the many gardens that Terry’s daughter tends. Here are some of the photos I took:

The view from the front yard
Poppy pod against yellow
Blue and green
A serene place to rest


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