A June Evening at Home
Nothing on the calendar tonight past dinner in Walnut Creek — a June evening at home. The blue stockpot went on the induction cooktop, and a six-pack of Racer 5 sat on the shelf above the range next to a Cal towel that hadn't been put away yet.
After dinner I went out through the atrium. At night the glass walls turn the courtyard into a lit box — the oak coming up through the paving, the rain chain hanging off the beam, the plants along the concrete, and through the far door one of the geometric paintings glowing under its own bulb. There are a few of those hanging around the house now, all in heavy gilt frames that don't match anything else here, which is why they work.
Back inside, the dining table still had the three little vases on it — blue, orange, yellow — same colors as the painting on the wall behind them.