Tag Archives: #writing_of_place

Thursday, March 9

Hazy, Damp, Not Cool, Not Hot, Morning Coffee Muses

Hazy, Damp, Not Cool, Not Hot, Morning Coffee Muses

Yesterday afternoon a foggy, misty, not really rain moved in. Today’s feel is much the same… The air is heavy with moisture, the tops of the trees are hazy through a lite lifting fog.

There’s a bluebird hunting insects in the grass as blue jays squawk overhead. A mockingbird is investigating the wisteria as yellow-rumps flitter about in the top of the pines. A squirrel scampers warily about from tree to tree. While around it all the cardinals sing their morning song…

I need to mow, but, there’s water standing all over in low spots, and, where it isn’t standing the ground just squishes. If it wasn’t so green this would be the mud season.

I have a honey bee Investigating all around me today. Usually it’s solitary wasps that pester you by flying all around. It’s the bees and the wasps that drive my wife crazy. She is just sure they are trying to attack her.

Coffee’s running low… gotta go see what trouble I can get into today.

Tuesday, March 7

Warm, Muggy, March Morning Coffee Muses

Warm, Muggy, March Morning Coffee Muses

There’s a soccer ball on the yard, blown there by yesterday’s winds. The same wind that had the plastic bag under the wisteria dancing circles in the air. Around and around the bag was dancing, first along the ground… then above head high. Dancing… Circling… Twirling… A virtual waltz in the air.

More rain is in the forecast this morning. Already this spring it’s looking very Irish about the place… there’s a green glow coming on all the growing plants. The air itself seems to be greening… Causing the cardinals to appear lit as the sit and sing upon a limb.

A cottontail just hopped out upon the yard. There’s almost always one somewhere on the place. Sometimes seen often, but, sometimes for months on end, seen not at all.

Monday, March 6

The Sun Breaking Thru On A Cloudy Morning Coffee Muses

The Sun Breaking Thru On A Cloudy Morning Coffee Muses

And then, a rain shower passing, sun shining…

Vulture courses on the wind, following unseen currents through the air…

Cardinals sit on pulpits of high green, passing judgement on the world with a song…

A congregation of Jays feathered in blue sky, answering with a chorus of calls…

Morning rituals in a life where nature is the cathedral, doors never closed…

The organ sounds supplied courtesy of BNSF, air horn blowing the crossings bye and bye…

The thunder of steel on steel, first rising then falling as if a storm is rushing past….

The pulpit and the congregation quiet, waiting… waiting, then all at once everyone voices their prayers…

Quiet falls, giving rise to a noisesome sound, clouds close in, a bird of metal arrows over, a distant roar…

Rivers of air move trees here and there, currents churning hither and yon…

The soft sounds of woodwinds, wind sighing thru the pines, rustling oaks, bending grasses… The sounds of March…

Wal-Mart gulls winging over, tracing their path thru troublesome air, from parking lot to parking lot… eating the leavings of mickey dees meal sacks…

My coffee muses have now bottomed out, not even the dregs left in the bottom of the cup… but memories are called fourth…

Long ago, far away from where I sit, I would’ve been sipping from a white saucer as my Grandparents and I saucer and blowed our way thru scalding cups of instant…

Morning and afternoon, rituals of coming together, shared with family, shared with neighbors… rural rituals, sweets and coffee, shared at a kitchen table, shared in a living room by a fire…

I, the youngster, sharing in rituals two…three generations removed from the now of my life then… friendly people, strangers becoming family, all gone now…

Memories remain…