Driveway

Turned south, into the cool breeze, and thought No; I’ll avoid it by going across the road instead, between the trees.

Around the grassy bend, up the slight hill, long wide view across the baled field. I don’t walk onto it because it’s open to the wind. 

Back to the road and turn south, where now the wind in my face is no problem. Did such a short jaunt up the hill warm me up that much? It must’ve, because with a hat on and a scarf, and my gloves and a fall jacket, there was no thinking about my temperature.

To the corner we went, the dogs and I. Cool grey day, intoxicating scent of moist ground and leaves, snowgoose flocks flying over. Having turned back I’m too warm; off come the gloves and hat; jacket opens; sweat runs down from boobs while I videotape birds in flight.

We have one neighbour on our two-mile stretch and this is their driveway as seen from the road.

Emil strolled around our yard and agreed that it was darn nice out there today.

The chicken noodle soup we had for supper didn’t need crackers or toast. Didn’t need additional salt or pepper. Had chickpeas in it, and sautéed fresh celery and onion, and steamed carrots. It should turn out this good every time.