I made a most beautiful jacket to wear over my dress. I got all Project Runway on myself and hacked a pattern to my own specifications and then started hand sewing wavy seams around the hem and cuffs and then added a binding around the edge. I wanted to add some beading in but stopped myself. I might do it later. The fabric I used had been tucked away for a couple of years waiting for this jacket. A creamy ivory silk brocade.
Is it officially Autumn yet? Peaches are done, that’s for sure. I’m always a little sad when the peaches are done.
The Last Perfect Season
perfect season, the last time sky and earth
were so balanced that when we walked,
we flew, the last time we could pick a crate
of strawberries every morning in June,
the last time the mystical threshing
machine appeared at the edge of the field,
dividing the oats from the chaff, time of
hollyhocks and sprinklers, white clouds over
a tin roof. Everyone we knew was young then.
Our mothers wore dresses the color of
dove wings, slim at the waist, skirts flaring
just enough to let the folds drape slightly,
like the elegant suits our fathers wore,
shirts so white they dazzled even
the grainy eye of the camera when
we looked down into the viewfinder to
press the button that would keep us there,
as if we already knew that this was
as good as it was ever going to get.