Posted tagged ‘mysteries’

“I think insomnia is a sign that a person is interesting.”

January 20, 2017

The clock just struck one. I’m not even tired. I went up and down the TV dial and checked out Netflix, but I didn’t find anything I wanted to watch. I tried to read, but I just couldn’t settle down and pay attention. Gracie and Maddie had slept most of the night away, but Gracie just woke up, had a snack and a drink of water then climbed back on the couch to go back to sleep. In about two minutes she was snoring. I envy her.

The weather stayed lovely all day. It hit 43˚. Gracie and I did our errands. We went to the dump, and she got her nails cut at the vets then we took a ride. Gracie liked the window down.

When we got home, the alien took over my body again. The kitchen is gleaming. This sudden spurt of housecleaning has to end.

When I was a kid, I read all of the time. I visited the library just about every week in the summer and every couple of weeks in the winter. I can close my eyes and still picture the children’s side of the library. The librarian sat behind a round counter made of wood set in the middle of the room across from the door. The shelves filled with mysteries were against the wall behind her. The tables and chairs were all wooden. The chairs were spindlebacks though I didn’t know back then that’s what the style was called. Some of the chairs had arms. The tables were different lengths. I’d sit for a bit and look through books to decide which ones I wanted to read. When I was ready, I’d bring the books to the librarian who would stamp the lined sheet in the back with the due date.

I loved mysteries. My favorite detectives were Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden. The library didn’t have those books, but I’d use my fifty cent allowance to buy the Trixie Belden books and just about every birthday and Christmas I’d be given new Nancy Drews. I loved that they were girls solving mysteries. Nancy drove a roadster. I had to look up what kind of a car a roadster was. Trixie was much younger, closer to my age. I always envied their sleuthing. I would have loved stumbling on a mystery.

Well, I finally settled on a Netflix film about conspiracies. Hitler and Eva were replaced by doubles who were shot. The two of them were then spirited out of the country. Now I’m going to find out what really happened to Nazi gold.  This program was a great choice. I’m getting sleepy from watching it.

“Some sounds are so exquisite – far more exquisite than anything seen. Daff’s purr there on my rug, for instance – and the snap and crackle of the fire – and the squeaks and scrambles of mice that are having a jamboree behind the wainscot.”

May 21, 2016

Such a beautiful day it is today. We have sun, a breeze and some white clouds hiding the blue. Rain is predicted, but I can’t remember when.

I have a mystery. Every day at different times I find the corner of the living room rug turned up. Nothing is on or under the rug so I don’t understand why, and I certainly don’t know who, but Gracie is tops on my list of suspects. I’m thinking it’s a Gaslight thing.

Today I have little to say. The week was a busy one but it was mostly because of medical appointments for me and Fern. Nothing much to report except Fern needs more potassium. It’s coming in the mail.

Lawnmowers are disturbing the quiet of my neighborhood. Even my lawn is getting mowed though it hardly seemed tall enough to merit the cutting. I understand the attraction of gas powered mowers, but I miss the click clack of hand mowers, another sound from my childhood which has disappeared.

Snow on the TV is long gone. I remember my father adjusting the rabbit ears to get rid of the static sound of the snow. The ears were wrapped in aluminum foil to give the antenna greater reach. Lots of houses had antennas on the roof.

I remember when I was in Morocco and sitting at a table on the top floor of a restaurant in the old city. It seemed every house had a dish attached to its roof or to the side of the roof. Even the calls to prayer were computerized. I remember being in Bawku, Ghana living with a family for three weeks as part of my Peace Corps training. My room was close to the small mosque on the street below my bedroom so I could hear the call to prayer. The one around 3:30 always woke me up, but after a bit, I knew when it would end so I could go back to sleep. The call became part of my night. The singing of the prayer was beautiful.

I am not a Luddite. I have all sorts of machines, mostly in the kitchen, which make my life easier; however, I am saddened at the disappearance of so many things and so many sounds. The click clack always brought my father to mind. He never bought a power mower. I miss the bells on Sunday mornings. I miss the clinking of milk bottles, and I miss the milkman. I could go on and on. It is just one of those days. It all started with the sound of lawnmowers.

“The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.”

July 12, 2013

The day is actually in the 70’s, and there is a cooling north breeze, but it is still dark and cloudy with a bit of humidity when the breeze dies for a bit. This morning was my monthly breakfast with a fluctuating number of women whom I worked with for years and who are now all retired. Today there were ten of us. I have nothing else planned for the day. My friend is coming to take my trash to the dump, and I’m thinking of moving the laundry from the hall to the cellar with a simple toss down the stairs. The laundry is getting closer and closer to the washing machine every day.

My friend used to say that once July 4th is over so is the summer. I actually saw a back to school ad the other night. Now I’m waiting for a Halloween or Christmas ad. Summer Santa was on the cape yesterday doing a six month naughty or nice check. He was wearing summer Santa gear and Boston Red Sox socks. The paper showed a little girl on his lap who was mesmerized by being with Santa.

When I was little, I was filled with wonder and made new discoveries all the time. The world was still fresh and unfamiliar. I got older and the mysteries disappeared but not the wonder. I love to sit on my deck in the evening and watch the fireflies in the backyard flit among the trees like fairies taken to wing. The male gold finches are so bright and beautiful they take my breath away. I remember the hummingbird at my feeder. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. A starry night is another wonder, a night so bright you can read by the light from the heavens. The summer meteor showers in August are so amazing I say things like, “Wow,” out loud but never figure anyone hears me as all the other houses are usually dark. Thunder and lightning and a heavy rain are favorites of mine. I watch from the window and see the sides of the street flooded and filled with swirling rain. Sometimes the rain is light enough that I can sit outside under the umbrella and not get wet. The rain hits the umbrella and that is among the best of sounds.

Getting older doesn’t ever mean losing our sense of wonder. The beauties of the world are still here. We just have to remember to look.