a little more August

Remember the book "Giants in the Earth?" Norwegians, the Dakotas, freezing to death in snow drifts. Sod houses, always the wind. My friend Joanne's grandfather came to Western Minnisota. He and his wife, Swedes. My grandfather would have married the woman he loved in Minnesota if his girlfriend didn't get pregnant. Aunt Betty. What would I do without the eternal sparkle of aunt Betty dancing just out of sight? But listen, it isn't my friend Joanne that comes to visit. It is Doreen and Jim, Johanna and finally Cathryn. We toast Cathryn's birthday with Aquivit. They all come in a week. We have mango and watermelon, hand crafted cheese, pumpkin bread on the porch for breakfast, wicker furniture, flaking white paint, donated by Mary and Ron.

The wind never dies. We ride horses and go hiking. We find Tronson Ridge and look out over the mountains.

The squash and the tomatoes start to bush out. The cabbage heads are as big as my skull.
Sudi's dog dies. She cancels our lesson.

August parralels February. It finishes off a season that has gone on a little too long. Or it is the wind and the bright light? I wear sunglasses and straw hats with the car visor down. I hide on my bed between one and four.
Still I get more and more tired. Are we too old? At night I close the windows, close the wind right out. I turn on the ceiling fan for air and hold on to Tony to know there is someone else there. How long will we be able to do this?

I can hardly ride my horse today, lackluster. I put up one jump so low we just step over it but it gives us something to do. When we ride out, my horse has her opinions and turns where she never turned before. She shivers at the squeak of the gate in the wind. The wind moans behind us and I give up listening for cars.

My horse has two cracks, both the left side. One back, one front. I take a bucket of water and splash it against the dry horn of her feet. She jumps and mashes the second toe on my left foot.