Donovan Kelly
Crummy But Good Writer with a Lighter Touch
Just enough breeze to stir the upper reaches of the tall oaks and get them fighting among themselves. A gentle fight, a half-hearted pillow fight, a sparring of outer branch against outer branch, red oak against white, trying to establish territory and breathing room. Isn't that what all pillow fights are about?
Sixty feet up the breeze was strong enough to stir the oaks, but nothing stirred down here at people level. Officially Autumn, yet the day filled with a most un-autumnal heat. The only breeze came from the wings of the hummingbirds fighting over the freshly filled sugar feeders. Why did they fight so much? Was it a constant sugar high? Why couldn't they stir more fresh breezes to cool my extended dog days body?
Maybe we had gotten our allotted share of autumn breezes the night before at the outdoor concert. I don't know how the organizers did it, but just as the concert began, a gentle breeze came across the park and the sun finally began to sink behind the trees. Our park bench was in shade at last and the heat began to sink with the sun, or at least promised to.
Sometimes just enough of a breeze blew to be an ill wind that let us know that all was not well in the direction of the restrooms. True, we sat on the bench nearest the restrooms, the one that faced the restroom door if one were so inclined to face. Instead, we turned to watch the concert and listen to the Blue Rhythm Boys open by singing “Sweet Sue” and creating a sweet swinging breeze of their own.
Sweet Sue. Good name for a restroom deodorant. Ahh, how the mind can wander in and out of the background music. Like a sailing ship pushed along by an ocean wind, the mind needs just a little musical breeze to carry it to unknown ports and strange exotic shores.
Don't know why we don't go to more concerts. Good music, good people watching. Why did the man with the biggest pot belly always wear the tightest, thinnest tee-shirt?
Why did that trim young woman jog past the concert crowd at least six times in 20 minutes? Was she stubbornly keeping to her schedule of six times around the park, crowd or no crowd? Or did she just enjoy having an audience? I asked my wife.
“What trim young woman?” she said. Then I remembered that people watching is sometimes best played alone.
“Ahh, that breeze feels good,” I said, hoping there was just enough breeze to change the subject.
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