![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rejectomorphSunlight reflects from a small pool of breeze-rippled water and casts a shimmering pattern on my ceiling. That pool, or another like it, must have been the breeding place of the mosquito who bit the inside of my left wrist as I slept. Itchy! It's my first mosquito bite of the season. The sow bug I saw crawling across my porch a moment ago is also the first of the season. I'm looking for a third first today. Firsts should always come in odd numbers.
As I expected, the day has turned bright, though not as hot as I expected. The sky is spread with patches of cirrus clouds, woodpeckers are slowly dismantling trees, and the balminess has induced someone nearby to mow their lawn. The air is filled with the scent of fresh-cut grass. The aroma goes well with the itching of the mosquito bite, reminding me of how itchy I would get when I rolled around in the tall springtime grass when playing some game (or no game in particular- just rolling in the grass for the fun of it) with boyhood friends. Today would be a perfect day to be ten years old.
As I expected, the day has turned bright, though not as hot as I expected. The sky is spread with patches of cirrus clouds, woodpeckers are slowly dismantling trees, and the balminess has induced someone nearby to mow their lawn. The air is filled with the scent of fresh-cut grass. The aroma goes well with the itching of the mosquito bite, reminding me of how itchy I would get when I rolled around in the tall springtime grass when playing some game (or no game in particular- just rolling in the grass for the fun of it) with boyhood friends. Today would be a perfect day to be ten years old.
