engineer's shadow in a dress

With my husband on a Sunday afternoon, still in church clothes, I ride up to Solar Heights, where there's a television translator.

I say, "Wish I had my camera."

He says, "You can use my phone."

I get directions on how to use it. Then I capture him unloading odds and ends of foliage he has removed from someone's yard (not a particularly electronic engineer thing to do, but he helps people and gets firewood sometimes in return).

I wait for him to finish. It's warm out, up here. There is a hunk of butte (Spencer's) near enough to almost touch, and I realize I haven't climbed it yet this year. Did I last summer? Months run together.

I play around a little, capturing an image of myself, but not.
The me that trails the husband and the months and these ripening times.