Hints of weather pending
Winter is coming and I know this because my lizard brain, the primitive part that regulates breathing, balance, coordination, and survival has kicked in.
The Second Street owls are already thinking ahead to mating which typically happens in January and February. Ordinarily solitary creatures, last night they sat side-by-side on a bare branch at the top of the elm in Father Dan’s yard. Every night they call – not a Halloween hoot – not a territorial screech, but a dovecote coo. Back and forth the lovers bond dueting endearments.
The sound is as hypnotic as surf. My ears prick – I can’t get close enough. I want them in the bedroom with me. The sounds calm and comfort me. They sooth my soul at night.
(If you read nothing else this year, read Our Souls at Night by one my favorite authors, Kent Haruf who died of lung cancer past November. The book was published posthumously. Six people have checked it out of the library, and I- one of the six- have checked it out twice. (I need to buy it. I need to sleep with the book under my pillow.) The story, set in a small town on the eastern plains of Colorado, involves a widow and a widower who find solace in the widow’s bed where they talk the night away. Their talk is like the owl’s cooing – a sound breaking through the lonely dark.)
I’ve rambled. I’m off-topic. But not really. The previous paragraph was just a round-about, circling back to the lizard brain and the coming of winter.
So yesterday I drove down the mountain to Canon City where I had a luncheon meeting with the Fremont County/Valdai Russia Sister City Association. People-to-people, town-to-town, we focus on individual Russians of like-mind and ignore international politics.
Before I returned home, I stopped at Goodwill – not that I needed anything but I love the hunt. Who knows what treasure lurks? Living in a time and place where wearing a dress has fallen by the wayside and already having more dresses than I will ever wear… my looking at dresses is more about the thrill of discovery.
Put another log on the fire.
And discover, I did! OMG! (Please note that I am trying to keep up with text-speak.) The 1930s-style, black dress with beaded detailing was to die for! I checked the size. The dress was an eight. One look and you know that I am not an eight. Typically I’m a 12, but often (thanks to vanity sizing) I’m a 10. And depending on the cut… I had to try it on.
I was not disappointed. The dress fit beautifully… above the waist. It was a bit too snug around the hips, and I had difficulty buttoning the cummerbund. Wearing it would have called for buying a foundation garment. I DON’T THINK SO!
One fine musician / one sassy woman.
So I left the dress and vowed to trim my hips and waist. I returned home, and I walked down the street to a house concert. Amy Gerhartz was in town singing in The Second Street Back Room. Give this singer/songwriter a listen. Check Amy out on her website, amygerhartz.com or find her on YouTube. In particular, listen to her singing “It ain’t you, it’s the whiskey” and “Fame.”)
At the concert, I drank only water. (In case you forgot, I was working on my waist and hips.) However, I was force-fed one brownie. (Note the passive voice.)
Cook me up some bacon and some beans and whatever else is handy. Winter is coming.
And then I went home where I ate three homemade biscotti (made from a recipe calling for three squares of dark chocolate and one cup of semi-sweet chocolate bits); brown rice topped with toasted coconut and peanuts; and chicken braised in soy sauce, brandy and anise. I was too full for salad. (I was also too full of self-loathing.)
Yes, I know. I had already forgotten about my waist and hips. But I am not weak! My lizard brain has me in survival mode.
Winter is coming: I need to stock up and feed the fire.
Another lovely
Thank you, Annie. More honest than lovely. “O that this too solid flesh would melt.”
Your blogs are too wonderful for my coarse male sensibilities. As usual. I’m a Walter Mitty adherent, I “…borrow from the witty and give to the dull.”
When you speak of “coarse male sensibilities,” you must be thinking of Ralph Kramden. Certainly not yourself. If you are not old enough to remember Ralph, you should look him up.
Yes! Very nice Ms D.
“Ms D.” I like that. So much better than “The Grammar Nazi” by which I was known at PCC.
So that’s why I’ve been eating everything in sight lately…it’s my reptilian brain undermining my waistline. I’m envious of your owls
I hadn’t heard from you in a while. I went to your blog and really, was your May 5th post your last?!! I think that I read “Lessons Learned in a Taxi Cab” back in May. It has held up well. I hate that when I write something that I like at the time and then when I read it months (sometimes days) later, I cringe. All your photos are good, but I really like the photo of the surfer dude, taken from the back. I’ve been doing a lot of shots from the back – letting body language speak for itself.
Kent Haruf was a very special author, lived in Ssluda, read all his books. And like you, I checked his new book out twice before I hit ‘er done. The ending left me wishing she had been stronger willed and not bowed to her son. Especially with winter coming.
Yes, Marilyn, I love this guy. I wish that I had known him in person. All the readings that he gave at the Book Haven and I never went… and two weekends ago, someone who had adapted “Plainsong” for the stage, mounted a production at the Steam Plant – a fund raiser for Hospice and I didn’t go. I feel like Kent Haruf is slipping away. Today I’ll get on Amazon and order his novels that I don’t have. I need to keep him close.
As for “Our Souls at Night,” I too (ever looking for happy endings) was disappointed in the ending. I wanted Adie and Louis to walk into the sunset holding hands. It took me a couple of days to reconcile myself to Addie’s decision to make the hard choice. (I almost gave too much away – SPOILER ALERT!!) But I know too many people who for various reasons have taken in their grandchildren. A selfless act for sure, but those personal connections inform my generosity in regard to the ending. We adults are in the departure lounge. It is up to us to ease the way for the next generation.
Well… I guess have given too much away. If someone reads this conversation with Marilyn and thinks that I have ruined their reading of the book, not so. There is so much more to the book than the mere plot.
Thanks for reading Marilyn and keep posting your photos on Facebook – they are all wonderful.