Posted tagged ‘beautiful morning’

“we can watch x-files together while we browse the internet for info on area 51?”

August 27, 2017

I’m not sure the adjectives running through my head are quite descriptive enough to tell you about the morning, but I’ll give it my best shot, the old college try. (Every now and then I do like to pepper my musing with a few idioms.) Today is a delight filled with sunshine, blue skies, cool temperatures and no humidity. It is a quiet day, almost a throwback Sunday from the 50’s when church and Sunday family dinners were the highlights of the day.

I have a couple of errands. I need bird seed and the two things I mentioned yesterday: hot dogs and toilet paper. I also need to plant the flowers I bought the other day and any other perennials I might find today. Those are the only items on my lists, and my dance card is totally empty for the rest of the week. The plays are done, my friends are traveling and my larder is filled. I do have some laundry, as usual, but I haven’t yet run out of underwear. I was thinking a Mad Hatter move and ordering some new ones so I don’t have to do wash quite yet, but even I think that’s might be a bit extreme and massively lazy.

I heard acorns hitting the deck again yesterday. The spawns are at it again. I don’t go barefoot out there anymore, and poor Gracie yelped when she stepped on an acorn. The spawns seeking vengeance against me. I swear I heard cheering when I first stepped on an acorn remnant.

Close Encounters of the Third Kind is celebrating its 40th anniversary. I’m watching it now which I expect explains my delay in posting. I can’t take my eyes off the screen when the UFO’s are on it. They are amazing with their colored lights, just like Barry said when he called them ice cream and toys. I smiled the whole time. It is still a wonder of a movie.

I’m in the camp of those who believe there is intelligent life elsewhere, not just on Earth, though I admit I sometimes wonder about Earth. It seems a bit of a conceit to think we are it.

“Every flower blooms at its own pace.”

August 21, 2016

Oh, what a beautiful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day! It is cool and sunny with that clear light of morning. Last night I didn’t even need air conditioning. Tonight we’re getting rain, but not just rain; we’re getting a thunderstorm. I don’t even remember the last time it rained.

I have noticed the darkness creeping in earlier now. We are losing two and a half minutes of light every day. According to the weatherman,  a couple of nights this week will be in the high 50’s, a warning that cool nights and crisp mornings are getting closer. They are harbingers of fall.  I love when it when late flowers color the front garden. The white clematis are starting to appear on the sides and tops of the front fence. Black-eyed Susans are still in bloom. A white flower whose name I’ve forgotten is budding in the garden next to the house. Soon it will bloom. That unnamed flower has spread across one whole side of the garden. When it blooms, it looks so lovely with the green house as a backdrop.

Tonight we are having our first movie. I have chosen Dick, but it is on order from Amazon prime, and they are saying by eight tonight. I’m hoping for sooner or we may have to choose another movie. The main dish for this evening is hot dogs. I have a hot dog machine which rolls the dogs over and over and also warms the rolls. It needs no tending. I’m going to pick up an appetizer or two, popcorn and some movie candy. We have birthday cake for dessert. I’m hoping my friends find Dick as amusing as I do.

I have two errands to do which makes this the third day in a row I have joined the outside world. Goodbye to comfy clothes.

 

“Memories are hunting horns Whose sound dies on the wind.”

July 9, 2015

This morning is the nicest way to start any day. It is dry and cool because last night’s rain drove away the heat and the humidity. I get to turn off my air conditioner and open windows and doors.

Last night was play night, and I saw an Agatha Christie play based on a book I have no memory of reading, The Hollow. When I went hunting to find out more, I discovered the title had been changed for the US edition, not unusual for a Christie novel. Here it was called Murder After Hours. The novel featured Poirot who was not in the play at all. I suspect Dame Christie would be pleased as she believed her having added Poirot to the mix had ruined the novel. The play was well done and fun to watch though I did have a bit of trouble with a few mumbled English accents. The maid, Gladys, was indecipherable.

When I was in high school, I was in plays. I loved acting. It was a perfect extension of my personality. One year, my junior year, we competed in the Globe High School Drama Festival. I remember Sister Corita was our director. She took us out of classes to rehearse, the best perk of them all. We went to the church hall and she sat, watched, criticized and applauded. We’d do a scene then stop to listen to her comments. The only suggestion I still remember was to place the phone receiver on the base opposite its usual placement to make it easier for another character to pick up. I remember little of the competition maybe because we didn’t place, but we did come home with a couple of jars for the biology lab. My friend Jimmy and I took a self-guided tour of the school where the competition was held. We looked into the biology lab which was filled with jars of different specimens floating in formaldehyde. A teacher was working in the room. We told him how impressed we were with his collection, and that we came from an almost brand new school with no collection. He gave us each a bottle filled with I don’t remember what and also a note with permission to take the jars. I do remember the jars were big and heavy.

I won’t ever understand why some events are permanently and vividly preserved in my memory drawers while other memories are sketchy blurs of time. I remember the jars but not the competition. I remember the heat upon landing in Ghana but not the welcoming oompah band playing on the tarmac. I remember waiting in line to go into the auditorium for my college graduation, but I don’t remember the graduation. I remember my father ordering me a daiquiri once before I was twenty-one when we were out to dinner. It was at Mildred’s. That’s it, the only memory of the entire evening.

I believe these pieces of my memories have significance and are in themselves important events. The landing in Ghana is easy, the jars not so easy. I can’t control which memories stay or which memories vanish over time. I just sort of smile and let my mind go back. That’s the fun of it all.

“In order to see birds it is necessary to become a part of the silence.”

September 21, 2013

Gracie was on the deck and barking so I went out to check to see which critter was within sight. I didn’t see any, but I did see a water spray near the top of the driveway. A bird was having the most wonderful bath in a puddle from my irrigation system. The drops of water were flying in the air as the bird flapped its wings. That bird was having a great time and so was I while watching it.

The morning is a beauty. It is quintessential autumn on Cape Cod. The sun is bright and the day is warm. Fall flowers are in bloom, and my garden is filled with mums, anemones and my favorite of all, autumn clematis. In autumn, I always think Mother Nature gives us her best and final show before winter’s turn in the year.

I need bird seed: sunflower and thistle. Lately, with so many birds, the big feeder empties quickly. I think word of beak must be the reason. Yesterday, after I had filled the feeders with the last of the seeds, a chickadee flew so close by me I swear its wing touched my cheek. I love to stand by the deck rail and watch the birds eat. They are barely an arm’s length away as the feeders hang off the deck. The chickadees are the most fearless. The seeds are what they want, and my being there doesn’t give them pause. The thistle feeder spins each time a goldfinch or chickadee lands on it. The birds just hold on and go with the spin.

I know I won’t be able to stop myself from roaming the flower aisles when I go to buy the bird seed. Perennials are on sale as are the fall flowers. I just happen to have a few spaces in the small round garden where a tree used to stand and some spots in the back of the big front garden. I also want to harvest the rest of my herbs. The rosemary is ready to hang in the house, and its aroma will spread about the kitchen to remind me summer will be back. I just have to be patient.

“You have to jump into disaster with both feet.”

June 15, 2013

Wow, the day is a delight. The sun is warm and bright, and the temperature will be in the 70’s. I went outside earlier and actually repotted a plant. The sun must have stripped away the lethargy the rain had brought. My grass is lush and green. The front garden is beautiful. If I were given one day to create, it would be much like today.

I have a couple of things I need to pick up at the store and one load of wash to do, but that’s it for my entire list of Saturday chores. I’ve already made my bed and emptied the cat litter. I think one of the pod people has inhabited my body. Never am I so productive this early in the morning.

I heard a faint beep and didn’t know if it was inside or outside. I walked to the back door to check. Gracie was standing on the deck and she was baying with her head in the air and her mouth opened the same way her cousins the wolves bay at the moon. Somewhere an auto alarm was one continuous beep, and it bothered poor Miss Gracie. I hadn’t ever seen her bay before this. When the noise finally stopped, so did Gracie.

My outside shower needs some care and tending. It seems the spawns had used the front part as some sort of shelter. Stripped pine cones are piled on the floor. The spiders live in the back where the shower head is. Webs are across from one side of the shower stall to the other. The spiders were quite creative though none reached the heights Charlotte did.

A column in the Cape Times the other day gave me a chuckle. It was about the blue Evacuation Route signs which have been erected directing people to the Mid-Cape Highway. Putting them up was a mandate tied to highway funds; however, they’re silly when it comes to Cape Cod. Perhaps the tourists will flood the roads in their haste to leave, but the rest of us know better. If there is a hurricane with heavy winds, the bridges are always closed. That means no getting off Cape unless by water, but a hurricane would make that impossible and deadly. In Plymouth is the Pilgrim Nuclear Generating Station, the only nuclear power plant operating in the state. If there is an accident there and evacuation is necessary, the route off Cape would take us right into the accident zone. People with boats could escape by water. I’d have to swim. 


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