a tea party

Yesterday the heat broke and we had an afternoon teatime together outside. Sitting in cheap plastic chairs, at the table Heather had snatched from a dumpster, feeling the breeze pour over us out of the cool woods, a tiny wren feeding her new chicks in the birdhouse nearby and the calico cat we adopted sauntering over through the grass. Heather said, "This is my ideal of the good life." Then she read some poetry, and waxed a bit poetic herself, the cool air tasting to her "like wine."

"And we're sucking it down like winos!" I replied.