Top O'The Evening To You

I had plans to visit our family beach house
on Long Island this past weekend.

Ah, plans.

As always, subject to change.

On Friday my sister Peggy and I went to Philadelphia on a family matter;

when I got home and pulled into our little dead end street, I was struck by the evening sun, 

just touching the tops of the trees with a clear gold shimmer.

We grow our trees big in northern New Jersey.  Deep soil.

The small new leaves of the maple at the end of our driveway look lit from within

against the dark of scraggly pine at the corner of our front porch.

See?

I sat for a few moments in the car, enjoying this fleeting light show.

Then, tired from what had been a long day,

I got out and walked toward the steps down to the house.

And smelled lilacs.  Lots of lilacs.

There they were, spilling over behind the house, up along the driveway level.

I should have had pruners.  But I didn't.

And I thought, "Oh heck, I'm tired, and they'll be fuller tomorrow.  I'll cut some then for the house."

Ah, plans.

As always, subject to change.

By Saturday, I was in the throes of a nasty virus,

and in no condition to clip lilacs, or ride to the beach house.

And then Mother Nature piled on masses of rain all weekend,

and the lilac trees bent nearly to the ground under the weight of their sodden leaves and blossoms.

But rain is kinder than snow.

Last year's Halloween snowstorm broke the heart right out of our largest lilac.

Not so the rain.

My lilacs are still there, waiting for me and my pruning shears.

Maybe tomorrow, after they've shaken off their droplets.

Right now, I think a cup of tea is in order.

I hope your weekend plans turned out the way you hoped.

Tomorrow our daughter Alida comes for a whirlwind visit from California, to see her sister Anne.

If you have a sister, it's important to cherish her.

And Peg, this doesn't mean I have to buy you lots of presents.  :-)  -- Cass