Tuesday, October 15, 2013

warmth and loss of it. . .

stepping outside, my cheeks immediately prickle with chill. chilled. flushed.  the toes of my boys, still bare, get cold as they run to the trampoline in the sun.  cold, and they still refuse shoes and socks, and i can't be plunged into the debate any more. when it is cold enough? then a shoe will be found. . .
the sun is still the big housewarming ball in the sky... and the chickens are still laying their bounty - almost at my doorstep, even. 
we've got the wood for a sauna in a big big pile in the driveway, reclaimed even.  call me soule . heh.
the air smells of rancid cat litter and tonight's ballgame will be chased by another egg frittata.  so there.
i have been remiss in writing. i can't find my way to the dilly these days. i'm slowing and storing fat. last winter's blizzard put the fear of the cold into me like nothing else could, and i am a bear gorging on the last of the salmon. far too late in the season, i believe.
the colors are wild here. feeling truly wild, with crimson being something once dreamed, now leafed. even the shadows are green, later tonight blacked.
i am thankful for electricity. i am... i love saying 'icebox'... but the illusory nature of our 'nightlife' does not escape me. how much trouble we cause by staying up past dark.
i think i've got to start taking photos again, but i want my eyes to ache with the color saturation of reality instead. the actual experience, as happening. i know you know.
make friendly with the black and the white of text. or orange and red if we acknowledge the design of a designer unnamed.
see you in the manana.


MotherOfGooses said...

You are right ! We take it so for granted that we should be moving around after dark. We are such troublemakers!!

Kate Hall said...

boil and bubble, mog. 'tis the season!