Sunday, November 27, 2011

Sometimes You Get What You Want Only To Discover It Is What You Need

The air is so soft today. Like silk velvet, cool on the skin. The earth is breathing it out to touch us, leaves scatter in that breath, wind chimes tangle, jangle in it, old man moss beards sway in far-up branches.

I got no complaints.

Made the leftover sweet potatoes into pancakes and we ate them sitting outside at the table under the trees. I put his glass of milk in the freezer because he likes it so cold. I honor his boyhood when I do that. He drank his milk from the one-degree-above-freezing cooler his daddy stored it in on the dairy farm. He would dip his Bozo mug into that milk whenever he wanted.
Can you imagine?
I can. I can see it in my mind. I like the picture, I put his milk in the freezer.

We went out together to let the chickens out. Held hands on the small journey. We watched as the hens scattered, each to her favorite place, we went in the garden and agreed that yes, the weeds are taking over again.
Ah. Sigh.
The hens scratched around us, Mabel had her head in the fence, reaching through for the tender sprouts of watered weeds. She is a good looking hen now that her feathers have grown back. Who knew?
What is there which is so delightful about the simple watching of chickens on a Sunday morning? When they come out of the hen house, Elvis does his little courting dance around each one. I think he is saying, "I think you are pretty, my hen, I find you very attractive."
The hens dance away sideways and say, "Excuse me. I would like my breakfast now."
That's what I think they are saying. I really do although Mr. Moon is more of the opinion that Elvis is saying, "I am horny."

Okay- here's a complaint- I just pulled a damn tick off my head. I'm sure I got it yesterday, crouching under tall dry weeds to pick up trash. No good deed goes unpunished. My scalp, where I removed it, hurts like a son-of-a-bitch.
Oh well.
Not much of a complaint.

It's Sunday and the air is soft and the earth is breathing in and out and so are we and tomorrow will be crazy-busy but today is not. Today is for moving softly through this soft air. Today is for opening all of the doors and letting the earth's breath move through my house.
Today is for holding hands and watching chickens scratch in the dirt and gathering eggs, blue, green and brown. Today is for watering the porch plants, washing the dogs, for whatever it is we want to do.

A day for perhaps feeling saudade and wabi-sabi and Ya'aburnee. All at once.

A day to perhaps go search the YouTube for an old song which evokes any of these feelings. A day to walk down to the river, a day to sit in the sun, to let music play in your own head or in the trees above you. A day to play music if you are one of the blessed ones who can do that.

A day to be soft and feel softness and breathe it in and let it out and that's enough.

Here in Lloyd anyway. That is enough. For today.

And I need to give Jo credit for giving us a poem this morning which led my head into this direction for which I am grateful to her.


  1. Lovely words and images. Except for the tick.

    Enjoy your soft day, I'm going to try to have one of my own here.

  2. Aaahhh. I can see it and feel it, and it's good and beautiful.
    Here on the other end of the south, the morning is clear and bright and still. It will be hot when the sun is high, and cool when the dark comes. It's quiet this morning, too, in this place inhabited by millions. I hear nothing but the purring of my refrigerator and the clacking of my laptop keys.

  3. Mmmmmmm.... this is hypnotically beautiful.


  4. Mel- Good luck, dear.

    Denise- And isn't that a miracle? Lovely.

    Lisa- Thank-you, sweetie, Mother of Bob.

    21K- Just writing what I see.

  5. That was an incredible poem. Thank you for sharing the link indeed.

    Sweet potato pancakes...oh did you make them? Recipe?

    Enjoy your Sunday Mary!

  6. Very soothing words for this beautiful Sunday. When you mentioned finding a song, Simon and Garfunkel's "Old Friends" popped into my heart. One of my favorites and I found it soothing even when I first heard it as a teenager, having no real conception that I would actually be this old one day! But I still find it comforting, just as I do your words. Thank you, Ms. Moon.

  7. Beautiful Mary.
    Reminds me of --
    Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.
    Max Ehrmann

  8. Beautiful first paragraph, Mary. I could feel your air.

    Sweet potato pancakes sound too good. Might you share the recipe?

    I have a pumpkin pancake addiction but sweet potato might be even better.

  9. O yes, that warm silky Florida air. Bring it.

    XXX Beth

  10. Thanks for your comment. I am still reeling. But I know it was as it was supposed to be. That brings me peace in the midst of pain.


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