Saturday Mornings in May

Toward the end of May, the grass is at its greenest, the azalea petals have dropped, and the rain rushes in and out like tantrums, leaving the sky confused, cloudy, clear, perplexed.

This morning is peaceful. As you can see, even Saki is learning how to soak life in instead of constantly running around in circles. I like Saturday mornings before the trips to the mall and fat-food eateries and backyard arguments. Early Saturday morning is like Sunday morning used to be before shopping became the god of everything.

My life is winding down. It’s slow and still. Sleep is so beautiful. Some people think old age is a curse, but I don’t see it that way. It’s more like a letting up of all the madness—a peaceful slipping into sleep. I wake up for treats and excursions into the yard. And then I sleep again. I can hear people asking, “Is she alive?”

And I think, “Yes. I’m alive. And it’s good.”

Best wishes, Juno

PS: Shane's inside. He likes it better there.