Well the sun did fine until mid-afternoon, then it sort of began to pull a cloudy over its front. I took advantage while it was full blown, got some skin heated both front and back. Now the wind is blowing furiously. Usually what happens as the sun goes down, wind comes up. But the air is chilled in direct opposition to the thermometer that insists the temperature is still above 80 F and I will not defy the wind but will hold to the warm dry weather for all of the summer, is my pleasure. Like I have a direct say about it. Yet there have been over thirty summers in this place and they are warm for me. Global warming experts record temperatures and the trend they report is that polar ice is melting at an alarming rate. I speculate about the continental shorelines. Do they slant slowly into the oceans? That’s what the college kids expect when they hit the beaches during spring break. If there will be no more beaches, where will all those beach bums go? But my concern is for sunny days in which to sunbathe in my own back yard. I am fairly confident that the sun will rise tomorrow.
Archive for June, 2012
Sunny yellow and warm. I waited until the grass had dried some so that my sunning cloth wouldn’t wet through and then I proceeded to soak up that sunshine. Top and bottom, well, that is front and back. Got sweaty which I think will help the tanning process. But my body can take only so much of that. Buena Wade put out some very colorful hydrangeas. She already had beautiful red roses. I admit my yard needs color. So I went across town to see what I could see. But like the bear that went over a mountain all I could do was go over a river. The West Richland nursery was in a patriotic mode and had stuff in red white and blue combinations. Pretty, for sure, but the bright I wanted was yellow. What I found was a plant with yellow tea roses, a yellow daisy, a coreopsis, and a yellow spike with cute yellow orchid faces climbing down a stem with variegated leaves of green and white. They brighten up the chipped rock in front. My shoulders and hips feel the effort of hole digging in my rocky wonder. The soil is very dry and I filled the holes with water and let it soak down before planting. The balmy summer evenings will require my presence to guide the sprinklers toward the yellow pilgrims who landed on Naomi’s rock.
A group called “Drinking Liberally” meets every Tuesday evening and I usually join the dozen or so and have a clear ‘no caffeine’ drink with no ice. Hearing aids or not I have a tough time following the conversations that criss-cross the table, doubly compromised by the configuration last night – three tables end to end – not to mention the fact that someone at the far end was determined to speak to the other far end. It seemed to work. The speak caused laughter therefore the humor was appreciated – I think. Laurel Pippo has a request that we all get together and celebrate her life, as if it were over, which to my way of thinking is making much to do out of nothing. Shakespeare wrote about that. For one thing how can any or all of us be honest in expressing our opinions of her when she is sitting in our midst? Well maybe we should, then she would have an insight into her personality, warts and all. I’ll drink to that.
Rain again this morning and only fifty F, no outside for me. But to get my blood to singing I ran in place with one hand on the south window sill and the other on the back door knob. Stationary. Knees pumping. Feet slapping the floor. Gets the job done. I don’t have the tool to measure miles covered in this manner although I know there is one that will. The distance isn’t what matters anyway. Use of the muscles. I have gallon milk jugs full of water that become barbells and a curtain rod across an open doorway for chinning. That should take care of all my hunnerd acres. Exercise was of less concern when there was real work to be done. In bad weather I pretend to have chores to do and errands to run. Well it works for me!
When it comes to my making a choice between a rat and a bird, the bird will win. However nature doesn’t make choices. I watched the scrawny squirrel destroy the robin’s nest. The nest was not the critter’s goal. It wanted the eggs within. Yesterday I watched it looking at the nest from above. I think that it was just an empty nest then. Today the squirrel came up from below the nest certain it could smell a freshly laid egg. The bird was nowhere in sight. The rat stood up to climb into the nest which was far too insubstantial to hold any weight from that angle so the predator only succeeded to knock the nest out of the tree. The lovely blue-shelled egg broke on impact. I don’t know how many eggs the robin was prepared to lay but will it make another effort at nest building? I will watch because there is nothing else I can do. Sadly there is nothing the bird can do either.
Fourteen people in a long narrow configuration can carry on three separate conversations all of which overlap. The result is confusion. And just to add difficulty I left my hearing aids at home. That is what I often do because I hear birds, squirrels, and cars on the by pass highway all the time. Those many sounds I put on hold, sort of, because they clutter up my thinking. At the usual Sunday morning meeting of Freethinkers or godless, I worked very studiously to make sense of some words. Some men speak clearly, some not, and the woman who speaks up much of the time with a timid voice pauses often leaving quiet gaps in between . I lose patience. I decided months ago that I didn’t do well in an interacting group and left the refuge. I thought to figure out how to manage a one to one conversation. I could do that while whittling – carving – on the basswood pieces that showed up late yesterday in a box 10 x 10 by 40 inches long. There are so many small pieces. I picked up one I can hold in the palm of my left hand and cut to the chase. Have to start somewhere.
Cocktail napkins can be entertaining in an army lounge, if there are drinks that keep on coming. You see Three monkeys sat in a coconut tree discussing things as they’re said to be. Said one to the others “Now, listen, you two, there’s certain rumor that can’t be true. . . .That man descended from our noble race — the very idea is a disgrace! No monkey ever deserted his wife, starved her babies and ruined her life. And you’ve never known a Mother Monk to leave her babies with others to bunk, or to pass them on from one to another ’til they scarcely know who is their Mother. And another thing you’ll never see — a Monk build a fence ’round a coconut tree, and let the coconuts go to waste, forbidding all other Monks a taste. Why – if I’d put a fence ’round a coconut tree – starvation would force you to steal from me. Here’s another a Monk won’t do — go out at night and get on a stew, or use a gun or club or knife to take some other Monkeys’ life. Yes man descended — the ornery cuss — but Brother, he didn’t descend from us!” I have a reasonable doubt that the monkeying around in an army pub is that naive.
The day began with sunbathing. I almost got my lumps settled around the rocks under my blanket when I heard a truck come rumbling down Abbot st. Wait a minute. The sky darkened. Clouds rolled in and claimed the rumble. I rushed into the sun room in time to avoid most of the big fat drips. So. Watch the rain again,huh? Not this time. I stomped into the house and looked again for my blue pot. I couldn’t find it yesterday. Look carefully. All over. In every cupboard. On every shelf. It is nowhere to be found. There is a thick notebook of first day covers from the US Postal System. Other interesting stuff includes Ruth’s tin monkey that climbs up and down a string, notebooks from her WAAC days. Most of the entries are pretty risque. Well not for the army but for this website. So I sat in the sun and read comfortably in the quiet setting. Squirrels romped on the ground and one climbed up the black walnut tree to examine a thatch of twigs stuck in a crotch. The little mammal looked innocent but the builder of the thatch objected and appeared like a bullet. The squirrel escaped to the base of the tree and looked very bewildered. It had the run of that tree, in fact the entire yard, all its life. That bird flew by again to enforce squatter’s rights and the squirrel took to its sky way to find peck-less safety.The good stuff is yet to come.
An old song goes: “oh what’ll we do, oh what’ll we do, on a rain rain rainy day”? The day didn’t start out that way. The sky had lots of blue when I looked out the west window as I washed breakfast dishes. Thunder storms were forecast again and I hoped that this time it really would rain. I crossed Abbot street and walked in the direction of Jadwin to check out the lady with a lemonade table setting next to her sidewalk. A drink sounded just right. She is a big lady. Overfills the wooden kitchen chair in which she sits for hours. I don’t watch all the time but I rarely see people at her table and I decided to be a customer. An excuse to meet her anyway. She has a middle school aged boy that the school bus picked up every morning. During vacation he goes someplace to socialize, his mother said. Our conversation blew away with the rising wind so we didn’t get into much small talk but I pointed to my house that I’d lived in for thirty years. At home I picked up THE EARTH, Jon Stewart’s book and slept with it on my lap in the sun room. It is that kind of a day. Now near dark the rain is gently falling and with luck it will last all night. In this kind of weather my eyes close often and I nap when I lay back, either in my chair or bed. Do I need an excuse? Tired ol’ me.
In the course of studying horses for a carving I learned stuff and will share things that you dont care to know. One thing is that you take a horse for a manicure to a farrier, an iron worker also called a blacksmith. What he does – almost always a man to handle a thousand pound animal is to clean and work with each foot separately. A farrier’s shop has a furnace to heat the iron so it will bend. He uses long handled forceps to move the hot iron to an anvil on which he will pound the iron into shape. He might cool and reheat it several times until satisfied it will fit. Then he nails it to the outer edge of the toenail. The shoe is left nailed on the toe and replaced with a new iron only when it wears thin or is otherwise damaged. By now you have decided you never want to own a horse.