Hunting season is an odd time of year.
It's also football season and then there's basketball, too.
Mr. Moon isn't the sort of man who MUST watch every game on TV but there are some which appear to be more important than others. I have no idea. The only way I could possibly watch football is to have my ass superglued to a seat and my eyelids propped open with toothpicks and even then...
Even then.
Anyway, I went to bed last night after making Mr. Moon some brownies and read for as long as I could keep my eyes open and when I got up this morning, he was already gone to the woods. It's just...odd.
Sundays.
The banana leaves are tattering and turning brown. The wind rustles through the drying leaves of the pecan. I have given the jack-o-lantern to the chickens and they have done craniotomies on it, like mad med students on crack.
Well. Funny how it can be so bright and crisp and yet melancholy all at the same time.But that, of course, is in the eye of the beholder, and I am the one beholding this day.
Elvis beholds the withering, beak-beat pumpkin and sees nothing but food.
I wonder if chickens dream.
I doubt it.
Nor do they know Sundays from Tuesdays or Daylight Savings Time from any other time but only know that when the sun comes up it is time to go out and eat the corn I scatter and when the sun goes down, it is time to fly up to the roost to sleep.
When it is time to lay an egg, they do, when it is time to have sex, they do, when it is time to moult, they do, when it is time to go from this part of the yard to that, they do.
Funny how humans divide time which may or may not even be real. It is hunting season, it is football season, it is time to plant or reap or pile the leaves atop the garden and let it rest.
It is time for breakfast.
There are eggs.
I think I will cook one.
sounds like the chickens know how to live.
ReplyDeleteI would have to be bound and gagged to watch football. Never saw the point. Have a good Sunday. I'm with the simple life of eat, sex, and sleep.
ReplyDeleteWe are having pancakes
ReplyDeleteI'm hoping for a chicken-style schedule today.
ReplyDeleteMad med students on crack chickens! I love it!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful crisp melancholy is what Autumn's all about for me. The seafront was a work of art this evening.
we have had our first snow, and my mother in law is only days away from visiting.
ReplyDeletethe cold of winter is definitely approaching.
That first picture is wonderfully golden.
ReplyDeleteIt is only because I love you and trust you that I am revealing my dreadful secret.....You probably won't even believe me, but I, Lo, the Sage of Califa St, am back to watching football in my old age.
ReplyDeleteOf course I do other things while the 3 Sunday games are in process, but they are there on the telly when I hear the crowds shrieking that something good is happening. I have been a football fan since I was about 10 and have never been able to kick the habit.
So now you know (almost) the worst. At least my sin is harmless......
Hey Ms. Moon, I miss you!
ReplyDeleteBut as I am here to comment:
maybe the same instinct that makes men hunt makes them play football and that's why the seasons come along at the same time of year. Which, come to think of, you probably meant to say in your post. But yes, very profound.
(It's late over here.)
The pecked-at pumpkin is perfect. You can have mine for the buck-bucks.
ReplyDeleteXXXXX Beth
Hunting makes me quake, coming from the huntin' family I did. Old PTSD, I guess.
Ellen- They do. At least, they know how to live chicken lives.
ReplyDeleteSyd- And there is that.
SJ- I changed it up today.
Eggs and potatoes.
Lisa- We had one.
It was so good.
Jo- It is so beautiful these fall days, isn't it? Melancholy and beautiful.
rebecca- Ha! Bless your heart!
Stephanie- Okay, I nudged it with some editing.
Lo- Honey, I WISH I liked football. I do not have the gene. I am glad you do.
Mwa- Exactly and true. I love you.
Beth- There is not much to be traumatized with the way Mr. Moon hunts. And so, it is good.