I don't remember this.

This is my house in the summer. I took this picture because we had mowed the lawn, and since we never do that, it was kind of a big deal. Normally the grass is like waist high. (For the record - there's no particular reason we don't mow... we just never really think about it.)


I don't remember this though. I can't imagine that there was ever a time when I walked through the forest that is my yard, looking for bird's nests in the tall grass and scrub trees. I remember the warm smell of summer, like all the oils and juices in the plants were evaporating, filling the air with their heady herbal scent, but I can't imagine that I ever truly experienced it. It's like a dream.


I can't remember what the blackbird sounds like. I don't remember the crickets and frogs singing at night - not like I was there, anyway. It's like the most vivid dream you ever had, and then you wake up and you want to remember it, but it's vanishing in pieces. And then later something reminds you of it, but you just can't quite recall....

I doubt I ever went outside without a coat on, let alone barefoot. I don't think it was ever so hot I could melt. And I'm fairly certain that hanging out on a rowboat in the middle of a shallow lake is just a figment of my imagination. My subconscious pukes this stuff up now and then, but it can't be real.

It's been winter forever.