summer morning

planks of cedar, nails and tools litter our back porch. the existing structure, partially covered and framed by the wood awaits cooler weather, less busy days and screens. brian’s dad is in the midst of creating a bug-free environment. seb picks through stacks of things saying “bing, bang”, searching for dzia-dzia’s (ja-ja is how you say grandpa in polish-that’s what seb calls brian’s dad) hammer. he is obsessed. the little red plastic hammer that dzia-dzia gave him a while ago alleviates his neurosis slightly. he bangs on the boards and smiles. i cut down dwindling daffodil greens out of the garden strip next to our brick walk to make way for the tomatoes and zuchinni that are tumbling out into the way. sweat erupts in beads on my forehead–it’s only 9 am but it’s got to be 80 degrees out already. if it has to be hot, at least we’ll have tomatoes, i think looking at the tiny yellow flowers that are emerging. seb follows me chattering. he seems to think i’ll give him the long-handled clippers i’m using when i’m done. he keeps reaching for them. he is so wrong. the parameters of our yard are jungle-like with plants, flowers and weeds. hostas are out of control but are sending up their white-flower surrender flags so i won’t cut them down yet. at least the yucca aren’t producing flowers this year–a little too phallic for my taste. the grass in the center is a patchwork of brown and green now with dots of white clover. i guess we’re supposed to water the lawn, but it escapes my thought process most of the time. i hope it’ll rain soon.