The past few days have been cooler than it's been here in weeks, and a soft breeze today feels like it blew in straight out of the sea. Two butterflies sway with the tall white phlox, drinking the nectar. For the first time in weeks, I feel like weeding the flowers and cleaning the house. I quell the impulse, and check on my raspberries.
They've been struggling, poor things, in the long stretch of 100 degree days (give or take a few degrees), but now the earlier work of the bees has paid off, and a few of the brave beauties have ripened. I pick a handful, pondering my options. They would jazz up a fruit salad, or maybe I could put them on Don's breakfast cereal. No sooner had this come to mind than the rationalizations set in. "Don doesn't like raspberries as much as I do", and "I'd better taste one to see if it's good".
I roll a red berry over on my tongue, squishing out each precious drop of juice. It goes down easily, and I sample another. As I consider how to use these ruby gems, I notice that the pile in my hand is becoming smaller, as are my options. It isn't long before the handful of berries has disappeared, and with it my fleeting thoughts of generosity.
C'e sempre domani. (There's always tomorrow.)
Linking with Rural Thursday
Textures from Bonnie at Pixel Dust Photo Art,
and Leslie Nicole
