The happy place

The hot sun behind thick gray clouds — which occasionally rain down on the tall grass from which insects rise in swarms as I go near them — shines with a pleasant warmth.

I see that the lush green apple trees have grown since spring, and I think it’s because of this tropical weather.

The first tree we planted in this orchard, when we were full of dreams, previously thought dead due to having been chewed on by roe deers, now sends its lower branches heavenward, green with life. Only the top half of its crown is dead.

And I sit inside the air conditioned room, working using the topmost of four stacked laptops (It’s the last week, then I’ll be using the one below it), feeling pretty good.

Feeling, I imagine, like the first apple tree I just described.