Place Entry 6

The air is chilly, and the scent of water is thick. Silver skies confirm the threat of rain. I like to be outside on sunless days. There are no shadows. Everything is sapped slightly of its pigment; the difference between painting with acrylics and watercolor. The cars at the intersection are as numerous as ever but seem to be moving slower than usual. They too must feel, as I do, that today is a day for reflection rather than action.

Deciduous trees have begun to flower. A few, like the sprawling oak behind me, remain bare of leaves, save the tangles of ivy growing up the trunk. Above me, I hear birds in careful conversation. A quick "kwe-kwe-kwe-kwe-kwe-kwe-kwe," and a longer, "kuhwehh." I don't know anything about bird calls. I see a dark brown shadow fly from a branch. I wonder if he is the responsible party.

Directly across from my perch is a sign welcoming residents to the COLUMBIA CITIHOMES APARTMENTS: AN ANDP & COLUMBIA RESIDENTIAL DEVELOPMENT. It is flanked by perfectly placed lavender and yellow pansies. A wrought iron fence keeps out unwanted visitors and the tumbling foliage of the older side of the street.

I wanted to get out here in the morning, early, to see this place at sunrise. I wanted to but I am not a morning person and never have been. So instead I'm here at midafternoon in the midst of the slower bustling Sunday. The lack of sunshine doesn't upset me; I got a taste of southern summer yesterday as the temperature climbed over 80 degrees. I'll never complain about the heat but, right now, I won't complain about the coolness either.

A couple of brown ants share the curb with me. They seem relaxed. Or maybe lost. I don't see their hill anywhere. Does a lost ant simply start over grain by grain- rebuild and forget? Does an ant know to be lost?

The gray sky sucks the color from the leaves, the birds, the pansies. The rain will come and then the sun and the technicolor world will exist again. The shadows will all be cast and the ants will move faster to avoid the burning rays.