The pull of it is so strong that even at waking, right around dawn, and without realizing, I start to scratch the inside of my wrist. Ten minutes of ice helps; I even make a poultice with baking soda and a little water to try to keep the itching down. The mix is fussy—first it’s just a clump of dust, then it runs like milk: you have to get it like a paste. That’s how you treat a bad mosquito bite in Mississippi.
Self-portrait in the window of a carnicería, DeQueen, Arkansas, Polaroid SX-70 (2021)
I’m painting the gate to my backyard, which is made out of wood, like a picket fence. The wood is in okay shape, not great, but it was never treated or primed so it’s just slowly rotting in the sun and the wet. A good primer makes it clean and bright and feels like spring to me. But it was a lot more work than I thought to just paint half the gate, and I ran out of primer so I have to go buy some more today.
Pioneertown, California, Polaroid SX-70 (2020)
The weather is a gift right now—it feels just how you want outside to feel, at equilibrium with your own body, maybe a little warm but with a breeze that cools you right back down. There are three big stands of roses in the backyard, and they are bursting with pink blooms, like soft fireworks. This morning I was drinking coffee and reading the paper and thought, well, I bet the roses would look pretty in this early light, and went out in the backyard and spent a couple of frames.
I just looked at the photos—I normally wait a few days for scanning so the color can soak in—and they look lovely.
There’s so much color in the backyard and it’s like a secret, because there’s hardly any in the front. But I planted some pink and red azaleas so next year it will be a little different. They’re delicate, though, and ultimately shy: the blooms are already fading.
Belhaven front yard, Polaroid 600
I should have sprayed some Off on my arms and neck when painting the gate, but the fact is I don’t like the smell. Sometimes I would rather just get bitten up than have those close chemical scents just cover my body. That’s silly though and ignores that I could light a citronella candle or something else, which I’m swearing I will do today.
199,999 miles on my trusty Honda Civic, somewhere in Texas or maybe Louisiana, 2021
I just took a little walk through the yard to look at the gate and it looks pretty good—probably needs a second coat in places, but I won’t do that unless and until I finish the other side. While I was writing the bite got pretty itchy again so I made another small batch of poultice, and it helped. It’s just scarlet and the size of an eraser now, not the rashy red dime it was this morning.
I’m going to flip Blood on the Tracks over and put on some pants so I can go buy more primer. I hope your morning is as slow and scattered and low-pressure as mine.
“LEAVE FOR TEN MINUTES” is this week’s installment of GORJUS, a newsletter devoted to art and life in the South on instant film. If you like it, consider sending it to a pal. Just like anything, some weeks are better than others. I’m gorjusjxn on Instagram, and you can see more Polaroids at McCartyPolaroids.