Looking out my Backdoor: The quality of light

My backyard pulls me out of the house. I take a book with me, as always, but cannot focus when surrounded by such magical glory.

This is the same yard, the same beauty, the same powerful stillness around me day after day after day. What makes it feel different today? I don’t know. Maybe something about the quality of light in August.

Already the sun slants winter-wise across the sky. Perhaps it illuminates more detail, each edge of leaf, each bird wing, each petal of butterfly. Perhaps my flowering ginger, currently the most spectacular beauty in my garden, the aroma of which mingles with jasmine and permeates the entire backyard, has put me under a spell.

I have harvested my last mango. My next crop of papaya are large as footballs. The avocados are ripening. I have gorged myself on the first three luscious green globes. Two months from now, when the final fruit drops from the top of the tree, I will not care. Meanwhile I’ll supplement my diet with mangoes from the market until the season is over and done. I never tire of mango.

My new neighbor arrived with her five cats. Within a few weeks she and Tom will be permanent residents of our little community. We visited last night just as the cooling rain began to fall. I discovered the “J” in J-Rae stands for Janet. Henceforth, she is Janet to me.

I have not yet met the cats but will soon, after they get settled in and comfortable with new surroundings.

When Janet left my place, Princess came bounding over to greet us. This pup followed some walkers and side-tracked into our community. She is the sweetest little thing and I fell in love with her.

Fortunately, Josue and Erica’s daughter Stephany adopted her. Otherwise temptation might have been too great for me to resist. Now I have the best of all worlds. A pup to greet me on one side and cats to love on the other side.

Just for fun, I planted a small patch, about 2 by 12 feet, of sweet corn. It is in full tassel so with good luck and no invasive corn worms, I should have roasting ears soon. Our gardener, Leo, shakes his head at the small height of my corn compared to his corn.

Mexican corn is high as the Oklahoma elephant’s eye. Along every street, vendors fire up braziers to roast the ears, overripe and colorful. Another temptation. If you value your teeth, you will beg deliverance from such evil. Field corn in all its guises, whether roasted ears, ground for tortillas, or fed to cattle is still field corn. Mexican people have the most beautiful white strong teeth. Bypasses my understanding. Maybe if I were raised eating such tough kernels, maybe.

Leo just came over. “Oh, Sondrita, we just don’t know. Today we stand up; tomorrow maybe no stand up.” His elderly uncle had died in the past hour. The funeral will be tomorrow. It is the Mexican way.

His news, a sobering reminder how important are the people in our lives. I thought about my friend Steve, just completing the first half of his chemo and radiation treatments for cancer in his throat. Of my friend with Parkinson’s. Of Jane’s friend who was severely injured in a wreck. Of Lee’s husband. Of my great-grandbaby’s mysterious recurring illness.

My own physical pain becomes negligible. I am acutely aware how incredible, how seemingly impossible, is this life I live, this life I somehow have fallen into or have been gifted.

Perhaps it is the quality of light.

——

Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].