74 – Plugged In

She always waved and greeted me if I’d parked up there, opposite her house.  Always dressed in black, usually sitting on a high-backed chair just inside her door, staring out for long hours, seemingly hoping that someone would stop for a chat.  Shyness that I might not understand her properly made me reticent. Continue reading

Advertisements

71 – The End of Summer

The gota fría arrived with a vengeance and washed cars down the main street of Antequera, took the river over its banks in Riogordo, and left my car cleaner than it had been all summer.  The sudden storms at the end of the summer, when warm air rising from the sea meets the cooler upper airstreams, are fortunately brief, and we are left with the fresh smell of damp leaves all around. Continue reading