I watched the skunk leave tonight, burrowing it's little nose into the wet grass, looking for worms. DH and I went out and blocked every hole under the dining room where it seems to live, with great big rocks. Now my clothes reek faintly of skunk. I sit with one knee up, trying to put more sentence on the page, and become distracted again and again by the aroma.
What if that was the mate? What if there is yet another skunk under the house now, trapped. What then?
It makes me laugh, realizing this is what I will remember from June. The scent of skunk will be forever linked with the summer Bean was four and a half, with the summer Sprout began to sit, with the months money was tight and I started working on my book for real. I wonder if it will really imprint like this?
What will you remember June for?