July 12, 2010
Time passes, all to quickly. All the cliches are applicable and the one I often think about is time as a beautiful piece of silk. It slides through my hands smoothly and the more I attempt to grab and hold, the more it slips and flows. I wonder what color the silk is today.
Yesterday was light grey blue, soft and moist. The air was liquid, full of moisture that occasionally fell to the ground. Ducks, geese, hummers, and squirrel came into the yard at da Cove, fed, played, napped and moved on.
There was a time this sort of world was too small. I looked to the sky, out and further out, with curiosity and restless ness, the lure to see what was present over the next hill gnawing on me like a grizzly bear…all consuming and ever present. This morning, my backyard is enough, birds chirping and chitting, the sound of a hammer across the cove, sunlight filtering through the trees, an Arkansas Sunday morning quiet.
What has changed? Is the contentment a form of apathy? Have I become lethargic? This morning there is a feeling of belonging to the place, or more accurately, belonging with the place, weeds, monkey grass scruffiness and all.
