The predicted sun has turned into overcast and possible rain tonight and the next few days. Hooray!!
All that and I didn't even wash the car.
Joan of LJ who has taken a computer break is coming over this morning and we are planning to spend the day in the GGNRA. I'm figuring lunch at the Station House Cafe in Pt. Reyes will be just right. I have missed her here, even though we occasionally talk on the phone, but an in-person visit is going to be great.
I was introduced to the poems of the young poet, Jay Leeming, this week. I have his book, Dynamite on a China Plate here, and am trying to decide which one to choose. Maybe two.
We don't have a lawn, more of an abstract collection of plants, that do their own choosing of what to do and I love this poem, which makes me even happier I don't have to mow and disturb the microorganisms in the soil.
First I hear them at the front of the house, and then they come blasting around the corner: gas-powered mowers like giant angry dustpans, snarling over the lawn as a man rides in back, standing up like a chariot driver in the Roman army. Just a few passes over the lawn and it's done, and then the week whackers come, high-pitched and whining like small airplanes. This is gardening done as a military operation, the hill seized, the enemy decimated in a surprise attack and no prisoners taken. They would use explosives if they could. It's all over in minutes, and then the workers load the mowers back into the truck and drive away. The grass that is left continues to grow, slowly and without stopping.
An oar is a paddle with a home. This arrangement seems awkward at first, as if it were wrong; the wood knocks in the oarlock, and would much rather be a church steeple, or the propeller of an old airplane in France. Yet as it bites deep into the wave it settles down, deciding that the axe and the carpenter were right. And you, too, are supposed to be sitting this way, back turned to what you want, watching your history unravel across the waves as your legs brush against the gunnels. Your feet are restless, wanting to be more involved. But your back is what gets you there, closer to what finally surprises you from behind: waves lapping at the shore, the soft nuzzle of sand.
Enjoy, love, and embrace the day!!