The mid-summer haze plants the seed of their terrestrial bound, celestial display. Lofted delicately into the air by humidity & paper thin wings they begin their musing spectacle of courtship. They paint ever shifting, continuously rearranging constellations upon the evening air, flashing their messages of availability & attraction, pining for those hidden in the vivacious green below. These fireflies are the first signal of summer; the first indicator that Ostara has ended her great, bounding resurrection & has passed her revitalized bounty off to Sol, lengthen the days & bleeding warmth into night. I’ve always been overjoyed by the presence of these, their comfort hangs in the air along side the heat of the day, enrobing me in a truly childlike sense of imagination & wanderlust. It’s my greatest pleasure to know them & an indescribable gift to witness their light.
Object Writing: Wick
It flickers delicately in the softly shifting air of my abode. As its warmth turns wax to liquid & then to vapor it expels scents of Spearmint, Texas Cedar, Rose, Palo Santo, Rosemary, Grapefruit, & Eucalyptus into the space around it. The aromatic mixture invigorates the senses of all who pass into the space, igniting a deep calm that puts the brain at ease & unwinds the tension of muscular stress. This candle is of my own design, a combination of all that which puts me in a place of hospitable comfort. It is a natural favorite that I savor endlessly despite having the means for its recreation at any given moment. The melted wax & its aroma put me at peace & give me a sense of home that I feel has escaped me for so long.
Object Writing: Sunburn
“How?! How? How did this happen? I put on so much sunscreen” I exclaim, the warm scent of coconut & shea butter still wafting from my now reddened skin. I look down begrudgingly at my arm, the blotchy red fading into pale tan as the skin progresses around the underside of my forearm. I reach out to touch with the other, my fingertips sticking the now hot iron that hold the place of my baked epidermis, leaving a lasting streak of white with its impression. Even just lightly hovering above my burnt skin I can feel the embedded heat rising, radiating my regret into my opposite hand.
Object Writing: Mosquito
Its tiny taps on the window were what woke me. Small pinpoints ringing out from a minuscule life intent on escaping back to the warm promise of the sun just outside of the grime dusted glass in its way. I watch it from the sticky sheets of my summer bed; how freeing it must be to be a creature so oblivious to the drastic difference a handful of degrees swaying one way or another can make in a room. I lay there, sprawled out on just the mattress cover, sweat soaking through the cloth, as the mosquito moves to circle the room. The late afternoon sun casts long arching marigold blocks of light across the floor, interrupted by a long narrow shadow any time the bug ventures into frame. Another hot day, another hot summer. Even at the distance it flies from me I can still hear the piercing buzz of its wings. I was convinced it wanted to make a meal of me though thus far it has shown little to no interest in doing so. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the ting of musk in the air or the thick soup of humidity, but the insect pays me no mind, so I return the favor. So here I am, spread out over my bed like jam on bread, watching this mosquito search in vain for whatever entrance allowed it access to my abode. I watch & watch & watch until my eyelids began to grow heavy once again & I embrace sleep as my blanket of the oblivious, my single relief from this sweltering heat.
Demo: Broken Toys
It’s the final Friday of the month which means it’s acoustic demo day! Earlier this week I put it up to a vote on Twitter to see which song I’d written with Nell you all wanted to hear & “Broken Toys” won! So here’s “Broken Toys!”